Here's part 1 of my write-up of this years Tuscany Trail race (written for Fatbiking Europe - hence the fatbiking bias).

Feel free to post your own write-ups here and I'll get around to writing the other parts as soon as my broken body allows.....

Cheers, Gairy.

TUSCANY TRAIL - PART 1

I am undone!

Beaten, bruised, battered and in every other way broken!

My saddle sores have saddle sores, my knees are ruined, my achilles tendons are excruciatingly painful and everything else (and I mean everything else) is overused, abused, sprained and pained, burnt and hurt but this all has very little to do with the Tuscany Trail event, route or terrain and everything to do with my approach to this trip.

I went and got myself a little bit obsessed and the whole thing became a tiny little bit epic. Not in the sense that real endurance folks might consider something epic but, for me, this trip became something of a beast.

The last three ‘big’ things I’ve attempted either failed or were compromised to some extent and I suppose I felt I had something to prove to myself. I wanted, no needed to know if I really had it in me to put the effort in and give 100% for as long as it took to get the job done. So…..I gave it all that I had to give, then a bit more and then kept right on giving until I became the besmirched husk of my former self that sits typing this article.

One would be forgiven for assuming (based on my finishing time of 3 days, 15 hours and 28 minutes) that I was one of the many who saw this as a nice gentle tour enjoying days of pleasant riding, taking in the sights, soaking up the culture, devouring the local food (ok, so I did this one) and generally moseying and meandering loosely towards the finish line at a leisurely pace – but no!

Over the event I put in four mean-ass days of 15, 11, 15 and 16 hours in the saddle. Starting at around 8h each morning and only once finishing before 23h.

I only stopped to use the toilet, refill my water or grab a quick snack (only twice did I even sit down to eat) – no dipping in a nice river to cool off, no having a quick snooze, no long lunches or other time sucking endeavors, I had work to do!

The result is that I now know (rather than suspecting as I had done for years) that I can ride multiple long days, put up with massive discomfort and pain and still , despite all of this, deliver a decidedly mediocre performance!

At last it is confirmed that it is my weight, fitness and strength that are my limiting factors – not that I’m a pussy – huzzah!

A NEW HOPE…..

In the months leading up to the Tuscany Trail I’d been putting in some big(ish) miles in the saddle and so it was a fairly confident Gairy who departed Chamonix early on Thursday morning.
Here you can see the moody and pensive sky as I drove out of the valley at some daft hour:



In contrast to my physical preparation my clothing and kit choices were more than a little half-arsed with me having forgotten a bunch of items that would’ve made my time a whole lot easier but luckily nothing über important was omitted.

I was also to ride a bike I’d never ridden before, use a GPS device I’d only used twice before to navigate and weirdly chose this precise moment in my life to try out SPD’s for the first time.

Never claimed I was smart, did I?

MASSA:

Once I’d parked up, eaten some tasty local seafood and gotten my crap together I headed over to race HQ and quickly got chatting with a few of the other English speaking riders. The Meet-and-greet was fun with the Italians very loudly being very Italian and the rest of us quietly chatting with each other in the ‘foreigners’ corner.

Surprisingly there were more and more fatties arriving by the minute and I’d estimate that around 5% of the 230 starters were on fatbikes with a further 5% on + bikes of some description and so the fatter tyres were very well represented:









I remember chatting with one fella on a CX bike saying to him “one of us has clearly chosen the wrong bike” but with hindsight I think I was wrong as we all finished and we all had fun – the bikes themselves were almost irrelevant.

THE ‘CALM’ BEFORE THE STORM:

We went out for a loud (and predictably late – nothing seems to happen with very much urgency in Italy, except driving) pasta meal at a local restaurant the evening before the race and a bloody lovely time was had by all. I left early as I was knackered and really wanted to be well rested before the start.

Unfortunately the sports hall we were all sharing was the brightest, noisiest and smelliest sleeping quarters in all of human history and very little rest was to be found.

At one point I lay there genuinely impressed with just how many different tones, pitches, volumes and styles of snoring were represented by the group.



Come morning I felt like I’d already raced a medium-sized endurance event and just wanted more rest but no…..things were about to get interesting…..

AND WE’RE OFF…..

I soon found myself in a big group of like-minded bikepacking lunatics ready to head off into the unknown (more so for me than many others as I’d done zero research about the area, route or anything else for that matter) armed only with a strange bike, half of the kit I’d planned on taking, a line on an unfamiliar screen to follow and a bag with some bread, sardines, ham and lots of water in it – what could go wrong?





The countdown was counted down and the group squeezed through the narrow streets and out into the Tuscan hills for a nice little adventure…..



DAY 01:

After about 18km of relatively flat quiet road riding out of town things started to turn decidedly ‘climby’.

HIKE-A-BIKE-TASTIC!

The first ascent (all 1000m of it) had begun. At first it was gentle, then steeper, then offroad, then steeper and before long things had deteriorated into a mammoth hike-a-bike section that had many of the riders swearing, falling and grinding to a complete halt – nice.

Growing up riding in the Peak District and now living in the Alps I am no stranger to pushing, dragging and carrying my bike up some truly horrendous trails and so I gained a whole load of places and for a few brief moments I felt like I might have a chance at a decent placing come the end of the day.

Here are a couple of shots of that first climb:





Once up and over the summit I waded through the crowds of people having a rest on the trail and immediately set about descending as fast as I could in order to push the advantage of arriving fresh and happy at the top of the climb and also of having the perfect bike for the loose rock and slippery conditions of the technical descent that followed.

However, this early positivity and good fortune was never going to last and the beginning of my troubles to come soon materialised on the next big climb of the day.

OUCHY!

A certain big biking website (who shall remain nameless but who are now on my ‘list’ nonetheless) had reviewed the bike I was riding just prior to me picking it up and so when Michael Travers had come to sort the bike out for me upon getting it back from it’s previous review he discovered that the double chainset had been demolished and so he did the only thing he could under the circumstances and fitted a 1×10 single chainring setup.

I hadn’t really been made aware of the shortcomings of this (32t by 12-36t) setup on the previous climb due to early race adrenalin and the massive amount of hike-a-bike involved but by the second climb my legs were already beginning to display signs of premature fatigue at having to push such unsuitable gears and not being used/up to it.

By the top my fate was sealed and I’d blown my legs completely but wasn’t yet willing to admit what a problem this might be for the coming days and so I decided to keep on pushing (often literally as I simply didn’t have the gears to make it up many of the climbs) into the evening.

The route passed through some stunning scenery and really nice quaint and very old villages.

Take a peep:









As the evening progressed I refused to admit that I was pooped and so continued on determined that my plan of reaching Florence on day 1 was still a good idea.



I pushed and pushed and pushed long into the evening and then just as I was coming around to the idea of stopping for the night it started raining.

HMMM???

Did I forget to mention that one of the things I’d forgotten was my tarp which meant that my super lightweight bivi bag was insufficient to sleep directly out in the rain and so I kept on riding hoping to come across some kind of shelter – I’d passed at least a hundred suitable structures earlier in the day but now there was nothing to be found and it was getting dark.

My energy levels were severely depleted by this point and so when I eventually crawled over the final peak and started to descend into civilisation my only thought was of a nice little room for the night and the comforts that awaited me.

Unfortunately I was not the only person to have this same thought (though I was the slowest) and so everywhere I tried was full of Tuscany Trail riders and so I did the only thing I could and kept on riding (I was now in a semi-urban area and the wild camping spots were nonexistent).

Fast-forward a few more hours and, after over 15 hours of riding, I finally stumbled upon a crappy overpriced bed & breakfast on the outskirts of Florence and fell into bed at around midnight.

Shattered, cold, wet and physically broken I could only hope that a good nights sleep would see me emerge fighting fit the next day.

Tune in next time to find out what happened next…..

Looking forward to the rest of this gairym, .

Roll on day 2

Great stuff!

Great write up, look forward to the next instalment!

I'm enjoying this, I'll tune in next time

Ok, here's part 2:


It is profoundly demoralising being me!

Don't get me wrong, I love me and my life.....the reason I say this is due to the way I ride my bike (especially during endurance events).

I am slow!

I've always been slow. I am getting faster (slowly) but I doubt I'll ever progress much beyond my current average speed and I'm kind of OK with that most of the time.

One thing I do to help myself stave off last place in everything I enter is to put in some very long days in the saddle. I've never had pace but I can keep riding my bike all day without feeling the need to rest or take frequent breaks.

The upside of this is that by the end of day 1 of the Tuscany Trail I was in a fairly good position (on paper) and had clocked up a decent mileage - so far so good.

The downside is that I get passed. By everyone. Multiple times a day. Every day!

I'd get up earlier than most and so I'd get past by a whole bunch of people around mid morning once they'd had a nice lay-in, a leisurely breakfast and then eventually jumped onto their bikes around 09:30 (I wish!).

They'd then stop for lunch at which point I'd slowly plod past them (though there's no glory in it for me as they're either sat in full view tucking into some delicious looking Italian meal or it happens unbeknownst to us all and no one is any the wiser).

The second passing usually happened mid-afternoon once they'd let their decadent lunch settle, maybe taken a small nap and then reasoned they should put another hour or so on the bike before calling it a day.

Some days and with some groups there was a third passing after the evening meal but usually I'd pass people once they were soundly asleep either in the trees somewhere or tucked up in a nice B&B as I rode silently past.

Needless to say that I rarely experience(d) that most glorious feelings, that of chasing down the rider in front, easing slowly past them whilst giving a smug 'ciao' and a nod of the head.

Instead I would be gracious in defeat each time a cyclist or group cruised by and endure the comedic banter that comes with them realising that it was the 4th time they'd past me that day (and maybe the 10th overall) - it hurts!

It also doesn't do a lot for morale.

Ok, let's get back to the trip.....

Day 2:

I awoke early on Saturday morning and was showered, dressed, breakfast'd and on the trail by 07:30.

It was raining but that didn't matter as I'd ridden longer and further than I'd hoped the day before and so it was with high spirits that I trundled towards Florence.

Foreboding.....

It wasn't long before progress was halted by a puncture which took over an hour to fix due to the bloody tubeless ready tyres/rim being a bugger to remove and replace (even though the rear was being run with a tube).

Here's a photo I like taken beneath a busy underpass whilst I repaired the bike out of the rain:



Problem solved and, after being passed by about 10 riders, I moved on into the increasingly bright morning.

I soon reached Florence and what a pretty city it is:







As I was eating a swift second breakfast (in the mighty fine pizza emporium pictured above) I was passed by Jasper (a fellow Brit) who I wouldn't see again due to him being a lot faster than me but who I'd get tantalisingly close to (I know via watching our progress on the Spot tracking page) which was a nice bit of encouragement in some of the darker moments of the ride.

Once out the other side of Florence my legs really began to feel the efforts of the previous day and the first signs of the slump that was to come were rearing their ugly heads.

Doom.

Every hillock felt like a mountain and every minor hurdle began to feel epic.

I realise now that I was just feeling low but at the time I genuinely felt as though I was somehow going through a very different experience to all of the other riders, that my day was soooo much harder and that the cards were stacked massively against me alone etc...

Nonsense - I just wasn't prepared for the physical and mental fatigue that I was enduring and I didn't deal with it very well.

I flumped on but it was a broken man who limped through the beautiful Tuscan countryside on that slow painful day.







I hit rock bottom around lunchtime:



I was beyond tired, beyond broken and a long way from where I wanted to end up by the end of day two.

Not good!

Gloom.

I tried everything, motivational texts with the wife, chocolate, the evilest drink in the world (coke) and more chocolate but nothing could bring me back from the black hole I'd entered.

So.....I sucked it up, got my head down and just kept on pedaling.

Slowly, slowly crawling forwards but at least I was moving forwards.

Until.....



I was done! Finished. Out for the.....wait a minute.....I wasn't about to give up that easily (though so many reasons to stop riding entered my head that it was hard to resist them all).

Wait.....

I stopped, took stock of where I was, thought about why I was here and before long my mojo had been semi-rejuvinated by the stunning scenery and up I got:



I kept on keeping on and before long the will to live returned. Before I knew it I was back in the zone and ready to put some real miles in once again.

The trail-side beauty was something else and for an hour or so all negative thoughts subsided and I got on with the business at hand:



I passed so many amazing little towns and villages with some of the best snacks and treats I've eaten in many a year but everything that day was such a blur that I can't recall the names any of them.

Below are a few snapshots of some of the pretty places I passed:









I had a chance meeting with a fella named Matteo, an Italian fella who had only heard about the event a couple of days before the start and so he'd downloaded the route from last year onto his phone and was following along on his own but tagging along with other riders whenever he could.

I really admired his balls at just jumping in and seeing what happened and so we rode together for a while chatting before he decided to stop for something to eat while I decided to carry on (got to put those hours in!).

The thing that stuck with me was the pizza that arrived as I was saying goodbye - it was, without doubt, the mightiest looking pizza I have ever seen in my life, bar none!

We've emailed since and he has confirmed that it was a once-in-a-lifetime pizza (and he's Italian!) and so I'm at least pleased that my obsession was well-founded.

Nope, we're done.

My floundering and miserably slow pace lasted until about 6 o'clock at which time I decided to get something to eat and call it a day.

I'd only ridden for 11 hours (9 hours moving time -pitiful) and covered less than 110km but I knew that I was done for and that to carry on would lead to an early bath for the whole trip - I needed rest and so I took it.

Below you can see the meal I ate, the beer I drank (ok, I had two - who's counting?) and the stats for the day:







I was in bed by 21:00 and determined that day 3 would be a different ball-game altogether.

Let's see what happened.....

Keeping those wheels rolling.

Gairy ... do you thnk you'd have had a far easier time without the fat bike?

You mean walking?

Seriously though, not really (not massively anyway).

The fatty I rode was as light as my 29er and the Maxxis tyres I used have a really wide and substantial central running surface which meant that there was very minimal drag from the big tyres.

The gearing (and my additional 10kgs of excessive gut weight) was what killed me on day two.

Don't worry, things perk up for day 3!

Great read so far, Gairy.

I agree that Maxxis Mammoths roll very well, but all things considered a pair of 2.2" Ikon's would have been quicker

As far as feeling really low, negative thoughts and so on - this is usually associated with shortage of carbs. Not necessarily a full on bonk ( ), but just sustained effort not being adequately replenished as the day(s) go on.

Easy to say from the comfort of my keyboard, but when you're out on the trail, I know it's a different story. Sometimes willing yourself to keep eating can be harder than the riding, yet you compel yourself to keep riding regardless as that's what you've come to do... It's a weird internal battle between mind and body.

Great tale. Your condition sounds like mine on my failed Highland Trail attempt last year - except that I bottled it.... This will inspire me to keep going and keep suffering this year!

Ian wrote:Great read so far, Gairy.

I agree that Maxxis Mammoths roll very well, but all things considered a pair of 2.2" Ikon's would have been quicker

Absolutely, I'm not trying claim that a fatbike is the best choice for a trip like this (it isn't/wasn't) but more making sure than no one thinks I'm blaming my shortcomings on bike choice.

The knowing look I gave my 29er as I left my garage heading to the event was similar to the one I gave that pizza on day 2.

Enjoying the read Gairy, keep writing!

Part 3:


Until now I've mainly focused on the bike, the trail and spent a lot of time whining about how hard I personally found it all etc... and so maybe let's quit being so self-absorbed shall we?

One of the things that I like most about mass participation bikepacking events are the good times, camaraderie and general bollocks talked with strangers and the new found buddies along the way.

Other participants are the easiest to relate to with a shared interest in self-inflicted pain, prolonged discomfort and love of bikes.

With that in mind I'd like to extend a belated "Twas mighty nice to meet you" to all of the blokes and blokesses I chatted to, rode with, laughed with or complain near.

Alan, Giacomo, Kenny, Jasper, and the other Brits I met along the way. Walter and Ze Germans (sorry Michael, you get included in this group - you've clearly been there too long!). The Flems (and fellow Travers rider) for being polite enough to not mention that they thought my gearing was a tad optimistic for the coming terrain. Lastly, but not leastly, all of the crazy Italians - you could hear a group of Italian riders coming a mile off as they laughed, shouted and joked their way through the course always keen to chat at you even though everyone in the conversation knew none of us spoke a word of each others language.

Top people, the lot of you!

Then there are the 'trail-angels'.....

I'd read about them whilst reading about the Tour Divide over the years and of course I've had my fair share of friendly helpful strangers in the past but until this trip I'd never been quite so grateful to receive those little gestures of common place assistance that can make such a difference to a fragile and exhausted bikepacker.

It was via a few of these little friendlinesses that I came to be in such high spirits on day 3.

Day 3:

What a difference a day makes!

I slept later than planned to give myself all the rest I could before plucking my sore and sorry self up and getting back on the bike and, whilst I was still hurting (and even had some new and exciting hurts developing), I felt rejuvenated and ready to press on for some more Tuscan infinite up-down-up-down loveliness.

The first bit of trail-angel assistance I received was from an old guy in a petrol station. I stopped after riding for a little while and bought a drink. I asked if he spoke any English or French but of course he didn't (and why should he?). Next I tried using universal sign language to ask if he sold anything to eat (smiling inanely whilst pretending to shovel food into my mouth and raising my eyebrows in a question-like manner).

No, he did not have any food.

But.....as I was about to leave he reached down behind the counter and gave me the second half of his breakfast foccacia which I tried to decline but he insisted and so 2 minutes later I found myself sitting on the pavement eating some delicious oily, cheesy bread goodness and thinking what a thoroughly bloody lovely fella he was!

Not a bad start to the day.

Soon I entered Siena and hit a particularly nice looking bakery pretty damn hard!

As I finished off my quick snack I was passed by a group of noisy Italian riders and so I tagged along for a while attempting to make chit-chat and failing but we were having a laugh all the same.



As I left the town behind it slowly dawned on me that I was enjoying myself again.

Nothing had changed but my perspective and so I smiled and got on with it.

Big day ahead?

I got chatting to two guys who were leaving the B&B they'd slept in as I was passing and so we rode together for a while and they explained that they'd had a long first day, a short second day and were now planning on pushing on all through the night in order to try and finish in under 3 days (knowing what I know about how much hard riding there was to come I doubt they managed it but it was a noble goal).

We parted ways and I rode on alone but the seed of doing the same had been planted firmly in my mind and so even though I was very wary of repeating the mistakes of going too far/long on day 1 I couldn't help but think that if I was feeling strong by the end of the day that I might be tempted to try the same ploy.

The day continued and many a fine vista and vineyard were passed happily (if still mightily saddle sore):





A few hours later I was out of water and so detoured into a little town to find a spring (making sure to back-track to the exact point of leaving the route before carrying on).

Old school bling

It turned out that there was a vintage bike and car show thing on and so I was surrounded by amazing old steel road bikes, cool cars and folks giving my disheveled appearance a curious glance.

The fully loaded fatbike also received more than a little attention which is why I didn't even think to get my camera out to capture the great scenes around me until I was leaving the town.

Below you can see the coolest guy in the world and some shiny cars:





I pushed on and felt that I'd found a pleasant balance between progress and pain.

I was content to keep turning the pedals and found that I could manage the creeping aches, increasing swelling on my ass and sharp, nasty little twinges that my achilles tendons were giving me whenever the bikes gearing meant that I had to walk up a steep bit of ascent.

Good times:





Despite my positive attitude I eventually found that I was starting to flag and I was particularly beaten by a few successive nasty little climbs that had me off the bike and walking (with my tendons becoming increasingly painful).

With hindsight (not that people didn't point out the stupidity of this decision in advance) choosing this event to try out SPD's for the very first time in my life with a history of tendon problems maybe wasn't the brightest move I've ever made but make it I had and so I had no choice but to get on with it.

Saved!

Towards the top of the climb I was caught by an English fella who's name escapes me and his Swiss/German buddy (they lived in Zurich, nice fellas) and so we trundled up into the town (who's name also escapes me) and were met by a group of local ladies who were serving to all passes by (though they had a roaring trade from the Tuscany Trail participants) some traditional Tuscan Pappa al pomodoro.

It literally saved my life - the second time in one day that strangers giving me free (and delicious) food had turned my day around!

Below you can see where I hit a low point and took a photo of where I decided I'd had enough and sat my sorry ass down for a few minutes and then, not half an hour later, the high point of being treated to some amazing free food:





Saved from collapse once again I pushed on.....

Daylight was fading fast and so as darkness loomed I had the final big climb of the route (as far as I knew - I may have prematurely dismissed the 400m climb on the island) which spurred me on and so I headed off into the night feeling great and still thinking that maybe I'd push on through and see how far I could get.





I found a roadside restaurant which was run by the grumpiest Italian I met on the whole trip but who, to be fair, did serve me when the kitchen was in the process of closing for the evening.

A bowl of tollerable food later and I was ready for the final push:



The climb wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected and I was still feeling strong and confident about going all night and so I descended the other side and set about making a dash for the finish.....

Ah!

.....that was until I realised that in my fatigued state I'd mistakenly miscalculated the remaining distance to the finish.

It was approaching midnight, I'd been riding for 15 hours (12 hours actual moving time) and instead of 100km to go I actually had a little more than 100 miles to go - ouch!

Once this realisation had sunk in my mojo dissipated and my legs turned to jelly.

I looked around for somewhere to get my head down and soon located a partially completed house and wandered inside and went straight to sleep.

Here are the days stats:





A really great day and I felt as though I could smell the finish.

Next up, the final day.....

Enjoyed that

A really great day and I felt as though I could smell the finish.

They could probably smell you too

Just realised that I hadn't copied the last installment of this trip report to here and that many, many of you have probably been unable to sleep not knowing what happened.....

Here you go:

Part 4

You'll be sad/relieved to know that this is the final instalment of my Tuscany Trail 2015 series.

As my first foray into multiday bikepacking racing I learned a lot from this event.

I've done loads of multiday bikepacking trips and one previous bikepacking 'race' (more of a mass-start 24 hour ITT challenge but it amounts to the same thing) but never the two together and it's quite a different beast.

I now know a lot more about pacing myself, about my bodies nutritional demands (I've been reading up on the science behind it all too - interesting stuff!), I've learned the hard way that an event like this is not the time to try out new shoe/cleat systems for the first time and that a standard 1x10 drivetrain setup is insufficient for 4 days of climbing on a fully laden fatbike (though I knew this from the start but had no choice) - all good stuff!

There was also a lot that I discovered about my own riding with regard to motivation, attitude and fatigue and how the smallest things can affect any/all of the above and make the difference between a great day in the saddle and a miserable day of suffering.

With a little luck I'll apply all of this new found knowledge and fare better in the Navad 1000 which is in a few weeks time (1000km with 30,000m of alt. gain - ouch!).

I suppose we'll have to wait and see as my track record of learning from past mistakes isn't good.

Ok, enough of this self-discovery rubbish, let's get on with the trip.....

Day 4:

Onwards (and upwards.....again)

An early start and some great weather saw me putting in the early miles with a smile on my face.

However, things were a whole lot more undulating than my extensive and comprehensive research had suggested they would be (I had saved a low res image of the route profile on my phone - ha!) which meant that my sore and battered body was soon feeling the strain of yet another long day in the saddle.







This guy was very very cool!



Ouchy!

Before long my right achilles tendon had had enough and I resorted to walking barefoot whenever the gradient meant that I was forced to walk.

This didn't make for an easy or comfortable morning and I was soon in a lot of pain.

Below you can see some cool little caves carved into the rocks (which I'm hoping someone made use of as a great bivi spot) and some evil stairs that I climbed with only one shoe on.







I eventually discovered (as my feet were getting mildly bloody from all of the barefoot walking) that I could alleviate the pain a bit by inserting my spare sock beneath the undersole of the heel of my shoe.

This meant that I could continue in only quite severe pain (as opposed to excruciating as before) - result!

Last of the mountain towns



Flat at last.....

Before long I dropped down onto the long flat section that led to the sea and (or so I thought) one last little climb before the finish - easy!



But.....

Things didn't quite pan-out as I'd imagined they would.

The tiny 400m climb up and over the island wasn't quite as straight forward as I'd hoped.

I hit the start of the climb as the last of the daylight was fading and I was soon knackered and flagging a little in the motivation department.

Fast-forward an hour and I'd barely moved (or at least that's how it felt).

I decided I'd had enough shortly after eating the last of my food and downing my emergency Redbull and started down a track which lead to a nice hotel but after a few hairpin bends I realised that I was loosing all of the height I'd just spent time ascending and so thought bugger it, I might as well carry on and so back-tracked and continued.....







The slog to the top was massively disproportionate to it's supposed difficulty on paper but eventually I made it and was about to enjoy a well-earned coast down to the finish when two things got in my way:

1. A bloody puncture just as I went over the summit and was about to freewheel all the way down shouting "weeeeee" - arse!

2. On the profile there seemed to be a few 'blips' on an otherwise smooth downward curve towards the finish. In reality these 'blips' were some really mean, steep and loose gravel climbs which I was in no shape to be combating in my exhausted and bedraggled state.

MUCH later than expected I finally made it down into town with only 10 miles of flat between me and a well-earned beer or eight.....



I'd passed a couple of guys on the descent of the last hill and I spent the last 10 miles looking over my shoulder worrying about being caught again (as if it was a real race and finishing position really mattered - ha!).

Here's me signing-in and getting stuck in to one of the aforementioned well-earned beers:





DONE!

Below are some images showing some meaningless numbers that illustrate how hard that final day was.





I was done.

Literally, physically, emotionally and in every other way.....

.....done!

I'd ridden 585km in 3 days, 15 hours and 28 minutes.

Been in the saddle for 58 out of 87.5 hours.

I'd climbed 13,377m and burned 33,733 kcal.

Everything hurt. Naturally my legs were demolished. My ass was in tatters. My knees were swollen, my tendons inflamed and excruciating (only now fully better 3 weeks later) and everything else felt slightly like I'd been run over by a bus.

But.....

What a trip! What an adventure! What a stunning part of the world to ride a bike through!

The food, the scenery, the mountain villages, the food, the people, the highs, the lows, the food - absolutely everything was bloody brilliant.

Thanks to Andrea for arranging such an amazing event and I'm already thinking that I might well find myself in Massa at the same time next year!

See you there....?

Gairy, blimey that sounded tough towards the end.

as my feet were getting mildly bloody from all of the barefoot walking

That's surprising.

Great write up.

Richpips wrote:Gairy, blimey that sounded tough towards the end.

Tough, yes.

But to be fair a lot of the difficulty was self-inflicted either through error, inexperience or stupidity.

If you're in shape, got the right bike and make all the right decisions then it'd just be a really long pleasant bike ride (with the most insanely good food along the way).

That looks great. Cracking write up too, thanks for that.

Great write up & piccies Gairy, all very inspiring..

Well done!

Brilliant write up! Really gave the sense of your suffering... and this is inspiring somehow!

Brilliant read Gairy, and well done for putting up with that amount of pain!

Gairy, that sounds like a immense challenge, and one you've risen to. and to look back on with pride (once your less sore)
Good write up as well, Well done lad