45 Southwest: Krakow Poland to Tarifa Spain

When Andi Buchs told me he had a new adventure—45 Southwest—it immediately became my ‘A’ race for 2023. While there are many events in Europe what sets Andi’s events aside is the effort he puts into planning them. I knew it would be challenging, scenic and above all safe. He doesn’t just pick roads off Komoot or Google Maps, but physically checks out the route. I also really like first year events as there is a completely blank slate and you have no ideal what to expect. Like windmills …

The route ran through Slovakia, Hungary, Slovenia, Italy, France and then Spain, with a series of check points along the way. While I had raced through several of the countries before, and some of the route was familiar, there was a lot of new territory to explore. Andi had included the Pico de Veleta in Spain—a climb to 3,398m which is Europe’s highest paved road and considered “too long, too high, and too tough for a Grand Tour” I rode it in the 2018 North Cape-Tarifa event and got hypoxia at the top. So I was not looking forward to it—and had prednisone to help address the hypoxia.

It was great catching up with Andi before the race and during a ride we called Steffen Streich—who won the 2018 North Cape-Tarifa and pestered him to come and ride. He caved in and agreed, going on to crush the ride doing some 330 km/day for the 4,250 km. Krakow was a great place to start the race. I visited a salt mine before the race which was really interesting, and took a few rides to shake the jetlag. The only downside was the hordes of tourists—I looked forward to the solitude of riding my bike. I enjoyed spending time with Andi (to the right with me), Irena (first woman) and Steffen before the start.

I had organised with a local bike shop–Centrum Rowerowe Secesja—to send my bike bag to Tarifa. From previous experience I knew getting a bike box there would be difficult. They were incredibly helpful and also really knew bikes. Highly recommended for anyone looking for a competent bike shop in Krakow.

We started first thing in the morning on 20 June from the central square in Krakow. To keep things under control, I was asked by Andi to lead out and everyone was to follow me from the centre of town to the river and then it was game on. We had a cross section of nationalities but as per usual, being from New Zealand I had come the furthest.

The first day I did 250km which took me through Slovakia to Kemnica. It was HOT… A portent of what was to come. I had the pleasure of riding on and off with Kwstas Alepakis who I spent some time with in Krakow before the start. From Greece, he was a strong rider and great company.  Unlike the Transcontinental Race, which discourages temporary riding company, Andi is fine with it. The opposition arises from the theory that it is not self supported if you have company and it gives you an ‘advantage’. Not for me. I cycled 52 days along across Canada last year and thoroughly enjoyed it. This temporary company was a nice aspect to the event.

Andi spoiled us with lovely quiet tree lined roads which had little traffic. Coupled with the incredibly beautiful towns it reminded me why I like bikepacking in Europe. For the first part of the day we regularly encountered other riders, but by the afternoon we were on our own. I had set Kremnica Slovakia as my target and reached it after 250km. I was completely toasted and collapsed. The Pension I stayed at were really kind and ordered me in some pizza for dinner. Later, a second rider—Johan from the Netherlands—also arrived. Was great to have a good bed and be well fed.

I felt suprisingly good the next morning so decided that I’d see if I could make the second checkpoint in Ptuj Slovenia in a single long overnight push. This would have the advantage of reducing my baking time during the day! It was great riding through Sloakia and I got to Control Point 1 for lunch. This was across the river from Esztergom Hungary. Ironically my cousin Hillary was on a cycle holiday as well and I just missed her by a few days. After an ice cream lunch I crossed the river to Hungary.

I had a large number of Swiss Francs left from previous trips and my plans were to change these for Hungarian Florints. So I popped into a Forex shop and handed over my bundle of notes. Unfortunately, they were rejected because Switzerland had transitioned to plastic money about 8 years ago and these were not legal tender from 1 January 2023! I had 20 Euros so changed these and then went on an unsuccessful search for an ATM that would take my credit card. I gave up and headed out, hoping that I could get through Hungary largely using my credit card. This was not to be an it was only just before Slovenia that I got some Florints from an ATM machine!

Hungary was very flat with farms everywhere. It was also much poorer than Slovakia or Poland. There were many poor villages, many of whom had a large, abandoned church. The roads were often poor and broken. What was frustrating is that you would be heading along a road and suddenly there was a ‘no cyclist’ sign. The only option was to go on the footpath, which often was worse than the road. Oh, and I must not forget Hungarian drivers who are a tad aggressive to say the least!

A couple of villages I stopped in would not give me water—they said it was undrinkable—so my small supply of cash was depleted: NONE of them accepted plastic. More than once I had to descend to drinking Coke when not even water was available. I continued riding into the night and before midnight Andi and Serge the film maker caught up with me which I was taking a break. He is Swiss and had a good laugh at my debacle with Swiss Francs. I gave them to him and he was able to easily swap them in a Swiss ATM machine, returning me Euros later at the finish.

Night time riding is something I really enjoy. There is no traffic and it is so very peaceful. My brain injury is often overwhelmed by visual stimulation and noise so night riding doesn’t exaccerbate it. Many towns had these beautifully lighted churches. So I just pressed on.

I entered Slovenia on a big climb about 5 a.m. As I crossed the border two policeman emerged from behind a building and stopped me. I had to chuckle because riding a bike at 5 a.m. was indeed a bit suspicious … they were taken aback that I had come from Krakow in two days, and thought I was a lunatic for wanting to ride to Spain. Fortunately all was in order and they let me into Slovenia.

It was a wonderful early morning descent in Slovenia on excellent roads. I’ve always been impressed with the country: it is just so tidy and neat. Houses with flower boxes, picturesque villages. It’s a gem of a country. I got to Check Point 2 at Ptuj at 9 a.m. after 501 km of riding. My second 500+ km day ever   Took the requisite photo and then grabbed a Pension where I had breakfast and slept until after lunch (when the heat of the day had passed) before pushing on.

I felt quite refreshed and left mid-afternoon for another big push that I hoped would get me to Italy. I was having a good run when my rear derailleur started mis firing. Then it stopped entirely on the smallest rear cog. Not good. Last year something similar happened in Canada. I stopped outside an engineering company and began diagnosing the problem. Battery was OK, swapped cables, was perplexing. The owner came out and asked if I needed a hand. He called a friend—the head of the local cycling club—who on arriving said “That is why I use SRAM wireless”. “Not helpful” I responded.

I decided my best option was to push on to Ljubljana—the capital—where they said there were several bike shops. So I rode in the smallest cog which was not easy because Slovenia is not exactly flat. It took me about 8 h of riding, and my legs were pretty trashed, but I got to town at 03:00 where I found a hotel and crashed for a few hours sleep before I went on “quest for the bicycle shop”.

I had pre-identified a really good shop near the hotel. I was there at 09:30 sharp and the sign said “on vacation”. Not to worry, I had a second option. Closed permanently. #3? “Opens at 13:30”. #4 (Specialized!). Closed permanently. #5 was an ‘urban’ shop, they said that I needed to go to the Giant store which was the largest place in town. What happened at #6? “We don’t carry parts to fix Di2 issues”. However, they did say there was a small shop in in another part and it was at #7 that the solution was found. 

The derailleur itself was the issue—not the battery or wires. No hope of getting one for 3-4 days so I had them mount an MTB mechanical derailleur with a bar shifter onto my aero bars. VERY uncomfortable to use but it got me going. Thanks to the team!

During my toing and froing around Ljubljana I covered a lot of ground (several times). I was taken aback by just how many tourists there were in town: I was here 20 years ago and it was empty. It was the same in Krakow and I was coming to the realistation that Europe was heaving with tourists. Glad most of my time was in rural areas away from the hordes!

Between my broken derailleur and quest for repair, I was passed by a lot of the other riders. So I left late afternoon with a mission. Things went well but then the skies opened and I was seriously drenched. Of course this happened on this massive climb towards the border with Italy so it was a hot, slow, wet effort to the border. At the top of the climb there happened to be a tavern so I popped in, dried off, and got a nice hot soup. This guy in the photo below even paid for my drink. Nice people Slovenians.

It was getting late and I was feeling good so decided to push on towards Venice. It rained on and off until after midnight but not too heavily. There was a great descent from the mountains into Italy and I knew I was across the border when the roads deteriorated in quality. That pretty well is a sure thing!

The route took us along the outer islands in the Venice lagoon and I knew there was a ferry just before 06:00 so I worked really hard and got there with a few minutes to spare. I couldn’t work out the ticketing machines so took my best effort and bought what I thought was the correct ticket. Then it was on the boat across the lagoon—which smells like an open sewer. We had to catch three ferries, riding along the islands between stops. Of course I missed the last ferry about about one minute. Anyway, got to the end of the run about 09:30 and decided that I would try and grab a hotel and sleep for a bit.

Not. A. Chance. Everything was fully booked, even the one star dives. I couldn’t even find a quiet church or cemetery to grab a few winks. So I just kept riding. After a 408 km run ended up in the town of Mantua where I found a great hotel and had an excellent meal and rest.

We were traversing the Po River Valley so it was flat. And full of really interesting and historical towns. Andi had chosen a route which made the most of these places. The tendency when doing your own route planning is to avoid towns, but here he took us through them, showing off the history and culture of the area. Here are a few photos. It was hot—in the 40’s—so I had lots of stops for water and ice cream.

The next morning as I was grabbing something to eat I saw Johan zoom by so I called out to him and he joined me. The first rider I had seen since Day 1. From the Netherlands, he was excellent company and, being Dutch, had to have coffee. Once energised we headed off together towards France.

It was another stinking hot day and, like me, Johan enjoyed ice cream so we had a few stops. I eventually left him as we began the climb out of Italy into France.

Andi’s focus on low-traffic routes took us over a mountain pass which was closed to traffic. They were punching a tunnel through the mountain. On the Italian side there was construction under way and so we climbed from the towns through the construction zone and then serpentined up to the top of the mountain. We were rewarded with incredible views.

As we descended the other side into France the road was closed with some barriers, but not a big deal for cyclists. But then we got to a spot where they were very serious. A high fence with concrete blocks at the base. Also not a big problem for a determined cyclist. Then I was on a very fast decent on a great road with no traffic. It was, after all, closed!

These descents are such fun, and a reward for grinding the way up the mountain.

On the way I noticed an old bunker from the French Maginot Line that was tumbled into the river, a useless fortification that was built in the 1930s.

Later I saw signs for a Maginot Line museum so at least some of this history is preserved.

I also passed this inscription in Latin? I have no idea what it is—Google Translate could not tell me. So if anyone knows I would be interested. Clearly this was a pass steeped in history: at one point we passed a huge abandoned monastery.

I stopped in this lovely town for dinner and ordered a pizza, expecting to share it with Johan who was behind me. After an hour it hadn’t come and they had not even started! At that point Johan came by so I told them scrap the pizza and headed out with him. We rode for a couple of hours and somehow found ourselves back in Italy. There was a small shop selling local products (honey etc.) open where we stopped for some refreshments. I asked if he knew a place we could stay and he offered us his empty apartment above! Was great.

I had hoped to meet up with an old friend Chris Parkman who was working as a Minister about an hour away. But my timing was unfortunately off. Shame.  We started the morning with a climb back into France and before too long we had crested at the Col de Braus. From there it was pretty well a clear downhill run into Nice where we had our next check point.

It’s always a shock to the system to leave the quiet rural riding and enter a large city, and being just after morning rush hour Nice was buzzing. We were taken along the waterfront past the $bazillion yachts, fancy hotels and restaurants. To the Nice sign where we had to get our photo taken. From there we continued west along the waterfront cycle path which was heaving. Quite a lovely place, but just too busy for me. I ended up stopping at a cafe just off the path and having a lovely breakfast. I think Johan continued past me.

From there it was west into the hills towards the amazing Verdon Gorge. It is a place of astounding beauty with this long ride through canyons and an amazing turquoise river beneath. I had seen probably ten Aston Marton Vantages that day, all driven by men my age or older with women half my age (no stereotyping here!). I asked one of them at the gorge if there was a rally on. No, they just like driving their cars here! I was feeling good and as the day cooled decided to keep riding. Had a big challenge ahead: Mt. Ventoux.

About 22:00 I caught up with Peter from Slovakia. I had wanted to catch him for ages. We had rode a bit before the race and he was good value. From that point on we traded places to the finish. He was bivying next to the side of the road and had been my ‘target’ for a couple of days. I was still feeling good so kept riding and did my usual prayer: if I’m meant to stop make it clear. About two hours later I came across a campground so took that as a message. Popped in and bivied under a tree, leaving about 06:00 before anyone knew I was there.

Mt Ventoux was … Mt Ventoux. It’s a long, hard, hot climb that I’ve done several times before. This time was no exception and it was stinking hot. I should have kept riding and done it at night! As always there was a horde of cyclists going up, none of them bikepackers… I was passed by a few, but also to their shame also passed a few people myself.

Got to the top and took the mandatory photo, got a drink and headed down at breakneck speeds. Stopped in the town at the bottom for a meal before continuing onwards.

After Mt. Ventoux we were treated to a delightful ride along a flat section with a rail trail. I had decided to avoid the heat and keep riding through the night. It was a beautiful evening and I really enjoyed it. Dawn found me at the top of the ‘Cirque de Navacelles’ which is this very unusual and beautiful circular canyon. Pretty amazing and I have no idea how Andi found it! Of course we had to descend to the bottom and then climb out the other side, but it was a great way to start the day. After riding a few hours I found a place to sleep for a bit before restarting after lunch.

Peter caught up with me as I was having a picnic dinner and we rode together for a bit before I left him and continued towards Mazamet where I had booked a room for the night. About 10 km from town it began to rain lightly so I put the hammer down. Good thing because as I was ringing the door bell at 21:00 the skies opened. Peter told me later that he got drenched. The room could best be described as decorated as one would expect a 19th century bordello to be, but the shower was hot, the hosts great and I appreciated not being out in the deluge after riding 447 km with over 5000 m of climbing since leaving the campground the previous morning.

It was still raining lightly when I left the next morning. Unfortunately, we had headwinds: 45 km/h at times. We ended up riding on the ‘Canal du Midi’ which was great. I really love riding on canals. Not only because they are flat, but the placid water, boats, locks, tree lined etc. make them incredibly picturesque. This was a really popular place as I passed several school groups with young teenage children out touring. Wish my schools did that when I was a child!

This is a very historical part of France which goes back to Roman times. I was reminded of this when I crossed a bridge, actually built by the Romans and still in use! Great engineers. Later, in August, when travelling through Serbia a local engineer told me that the road I was on is the original Roman road with 80 mm of asphalt concrete put on top and nothing else! I got lunch in this incredible town with medieval buildings, none of which were straight!

I rode into the evening and bivied next to a church in the corner by the grave yard. It was a lovely fresh, clear evening. A big plus was at 23:00 when they turned off all the street lights which also silenced the dogs…

The key to stealth camping is to be off early and I was. I went to pump my tyres and found my pump was broken! Headed off anyway and in a town I saw at a petrol station a young couple towing a trailer with two very high end bikes. From Spain they didn’t speak English, but understood my pumping action and produced the nicest track pump I have ever seen. Real trail angels!

This was my day of climbing. After finding a light breakfast I started the first of what would be climbs into Spain: 12 km up to the 1489 m summit of Col D’Aspin.

 

There were signs for the Tour de France as this was scheduled through here a few days after me. There was a crew of men my age also climbing—faster of course—and they snapped this photo at the top. When they heard I had ridden from Poland they were impressed!

From there it was was on to the 17 km climb up to the 2115 m summit of Col du Tourmalet. When I turned to start going up the mountain there was a cafe which I popped into. The patron said ‘are you on the ride from Poland?’. A couple of previous riders had been in. I told him that Peter from Slovenia will be in next and to give him my regards. Peter was very surprised to be received by name!

Tourmalet is famous in Tour de France history for the time when Eugene Christophe was riding and broke his forks. He went to the village forge and repaired them, but was later disqualified because the apprentice pumped the baffles for the air. The statue to the right commemorates the incident.

This is an incredibly popular ride and there were hordes of cyclists on the hill. As we approached the top portion there was also the Tour de France groupies, waiting in their campervans for the race to pass through in the coming days. I’ve never quite comprehended spending a few days on a bleak, cold mountain for the 5 seconds or so when the peleton passes by …

The top was foggy with light rain and I got the requisite picture. Any Buchs the race director was there and I bought him lunch with the out of date Swiss Francs that he had kindly changed into Euros for me in Switzerland. 

It was cold and wet so I rugged up and hit the descent. There was a bike shop part way down where I stopped and bought a pump. Managed to fix my original one so didn’t need it in the end.

The next climb was up to Col du Soulor. It had cleared up for a while but as the afternoon wore on the clouds rolled in. It was amazing because I came out above the cloud layer. Andi was there with his drone so would be interesting to see the shots he got. Unfortunately the restaurant at the top was closed as I was getting a bit low on ‘fuel’. I passed some shepherds with HUGE dogs, but they were well behaved. I can’t figure out the economics of French farming: they have like 20 sheep which they are walking home in the evening. NZ would have a couple of hundred.

The climbing was nowhere near over as I had to climb the Col d’Aubisque. At the top there was some really neat ‘bicycle art’. You actually see things like this everywhere, even in the middle of roundabouts. The photo below doesn’t do it justice but they are monsterously large.

The descent from Col d’Aubisque was fun until it started raining. That always takes the smile off a well earned descent. Went down into a valley and through what was once a prosperous spa town.

The ride was then along a river valley with cliffs on one side, and woods on the other. There was some serious 19th century/early 20th century hydro plants which architecturally were lovely. Like elsewhere, the lack of traffic made it a delight to ride. It was getting late and before too long I was riding in the dark.

The rain had stopped and it was a perfect night for riding, with a full moon peeking out from behind the clouds. As I climbed towards Spain—and my fifth and last mountain for the day—I passed lakes with recreation areas and lots of people camping. I was on a clock as I had booked a room. When I saw a cafe open I popped in, grabbed two apple juices, and then devoured them. The patron said ‘you must be in that race from Poland’. Clearly I was not the first one to do this!

It was finally into Spain at the Puerto del Portalet and the change was immediately noticeable. Gone were the nice pavements of France, replaced with bumpy, potholed, cracked Spanish roads. Vive la France! There was no traffic and so I made the most of the road heading down, but held off a bit because the poor pavement conditions made it potentially dangerous at 70 km/h+ After taking a wrong turn with Google Maps found my hotel and had a well earned shower and sleep in a proper bed after a big day.

The next morning was brilliant blue sky. After a visit to the supermarket I headed out. There was an adventure cycling/running even on so lots of active people about.

The temperature climbed to the high 30’s quite rapidly and it was going to be a stinking hot day. It was Sunday so most things were closed. At one point I reached rock bottom and bought two bottles of cold Coke from the only vending machine I had come across. I never drink soft drinks, but it was manna from heaven!

Made my way to the next check point which was in front of these incredible rock fingers. A friend from New Zealand who is a climber told me that they are quite famous. I continued to be impressed by the amazing places that Andi had found for us to visit in this adventure.

Peter from Slovenia was there at the same time and it was great to see him again. He was great riding company and we rode on and off for the day. He was faster than me so would drop me, but then he would either take a break (or get lost) and I would catch up.

It was a hot, hard day which is typical of Spain. What was atypical was that we  did not have headwinds, but the heat was pretty stifling in the valleys. As the evening came we found ourselves navigating through orchards which had very soft sandy soil in places. Here is Peter falling off his bike when he hit a patch of very soft sand. He was envious of my 38mm wide tyres which could handle it. Andi was cursed quite a bit.

 

The next day was a change of weather as there were storms in the air. I saw a storm forming about 10 km ahead of me and hauled it to try and avoid. I was unsuccessful but managed to find some woods where the trees offered a bit of respite. When there was a break I hauled it and found a town where I sheltered in a restaurant and had some tapas.

At one point I got caught in the storm but there was a ‘cave’ where I was able to take shelter from the worst of it. At least there was no lightening around me unlike Austria: the lightening was some distance away.

Peter was not as fortunate and said that he got caught seven times, including with bad hail. Should have ridden the extra hours like I did the previous night!

We went through this amazingly beautiful valley. The photos below don’t do it justice … It always amazes me how Andi finds such incredible places for us to travel through. In 2018 during North Cape-Tarifa I sent some photos to a Spanish friend of mine who had no idea such places existed in Spain.

That night I had a very typical Spanish experience. I had been riding all day through the 40+ C heat and was quite hungry. I finally found a small town with a restaurant and bowl up at 19:30 to grab some food. It was closed… until 20:00! Ho hum. I continued riding and about 21:00 a road cyclist came out in the other direction. He was a ‘dot watcher’ and had been following the race. We rode together to the next town where he said there was a hostel. It was closed, but he called the owner who came and opened up. She had lived in Australia and was really friendly. I had to leave my bicycle in the lobby as she had just painted the rooms, but I didn’t mind as I had a good lock. Was great to get a proper rest.

The next day was a day of ‘windmills’. These were our final check point before the finish. It was the land of ‘La Mancha’ and yes, there were actual windmills that Don Quiote had taken runs at!

At the third set of windmills Peter caught up with me and we rode up together. Was nice having his companionship again. He had stopped a few kilometres before the town I stayed at the night before and didn’t get my text message about rooms being available.

The next day I felt really good and so rode all day and then continued into the night. About 23:00 I passed through this small town and it seemed that the whole community was out having dinner in the small town square—even young children! I had a great meal and told Peter who was behind me to press on and find some food. It was a lovely evening for a ride and my goal was to try and catch Bernarda Juric who was ahead of me in 4th place and had spent an inordinate amount of time not moving.

It was a magic ride with the full moon shining. About 02:00 I climbed up to this amazingly lit city on a hilltop, with its battlements shining from afar. This was clearly a popular tourist spot and it was great to have the cobblestoned streets all to myself. They even had a public fountain to fill my water bottle.

Pressing on it was very cold before dawn and I found a cafe for a warm drink. I kept on riding and eventually the sleep monster caught up with me. Decided it was time for one of my micro-naps. I rolled off to a side road and lay my bike on the pavement. With the tyre as my pillow lay down for a 10 minute nap. Living the dream … you can see the wet spot from my shirt on the pavement

My goal was to get to the top of Pico de Veleta that day. I would then be in a position to do a single big push to the finish the next day. When I got to the base of the mountain at 14:00 it was about 42C. I grabbed some lunch but when I went out to ride I decided that to continue would do myself damage. So I checked into a hotel and crashed. I had knocked off 464 km of riding over 32h, with 24h of actual riding. No wonder I was tired!

I left at 04:30 for my final run to the finish which ended being 473 km over 29h of riding. Oh, and there were 7300 m of climbing…

It was a brilliant fresh morning of only about 16 C as I started the 42 km climb to the top of Pico de Veleta. At 3,398 m, it is the highest trafficable road in Europe. It was also something that I approached with trepidation as in the North Cape-Tarifa race we also climbed it and I got hypoxia at the top which was really problematic. This time I took some prednisone and used my asthma inhaler and fortunately this time there were no issues.

The climb is very long but at least there was little traffic at such an early hour. Eventually you pass a gate where the road becomes broken, and eventually you are on a gravel pavement. It was there I met Bernada who was pushing her bike down the hill. She said that she had 15 punctures and didn’t want another one! Explains why over the last days I was able to run her down. I continued to the top and got the requisite photo at the summit.

Then disaster happened. As I was coming down the scree I slipped and dropped my bicycle which tumbled down the hill. The chain got jammed between the cassette and the spokes. I but couldn’t get it out so ended up having to break the chain, remove the derailleur and pop off the wheel. I got everything reassembled but my through axle would not bind to the other drop out. No matter how hard I tried the threads would not bite. I tried cleaning the threads on the bike and the through axle but nothing worked. There was a bike shop part way down the hill so I decided after an hour to make my way there. My solution? Some cable ties, tenacious tape and a lot of hope.

I got a few hundred metres down the hill before the broken pavement caused my wheel to fall off. At least I was going slowly. I then thought about reverse threading the through axle from the other side and this worked! I was back in play, but had lost a lot of time at the top. On the way down I met Alesandro—who I had last seen in Hungary—and Peter on their way up. There were now four of us within a few hours of each other so the race was on to the finish!

It was a blast shooting down the mountain, except for when I missed a turn and had to climb back up again! The bike still was not right and I dropped the chain a few times when shifting. I had already used my spare derailleur hanger in Italy so had to accept poor shifting until I could find a bike shop to straighten it (which happened in Denmark). I changed the limiting screws to ensure that the chain would not go too far so effectively had a 9 speed. As my wife Lis says, these sorts of races call for riders to have a few technical skills! Or at least not be as clumsy as I am…

It was another stinking hot day but I was pretty well acclimitised by now so rode through the heat. The heat may explain why all the houses are white! In the afternoon I met up with Bernarda and we rode on an off into the evening.

Late we came across this town with a huge carnival going on. These Spaniards really are nocturnal! Bernada stopped for refreshments and I continued on, hoping to put some distance between us. One of us would be in fourth place and I was hoping it would be me! Yes, I am overly competitive.

I rode through the night and passed several lovely towns. I could see from Bernada’s tracker that she was catching up so I didn’t stop for a rest until sunrise when the sleep monster was again rearing its head. I ended up taking two 10 minute micronaps and one longer 30 minute one. I know I need a longer nap when I start falling asleep within 2 h of a micronap—normally they last 3-4 h.

As the day progressed I was low on water and stopped at a hostel to see if they had anything. There was a children’s camp with lots of 10 year olds and they all spoke excellent English! Was the first long chat I had since entering Spain and they peppered me with all sorts of questions about my ride.

As I approached the coast the traffic increased and finally I was at the ocean! From there it was turning south towards the finish in Tarifa. Of course Andi had a ‘sting’ in the tail with lots of climbs, poor roads, but also ones with little traffic.

Andi met me on the outskirts of Tarifa and escorted me to the finish line at the ‘tuna’ sculpture. Irena (3rd) was still there, as was Serge the photographer.  I had stayed ahead of Bernada—who finished 3h after me—so got 4th place in 17:14:47. I had averaged 248 km/day for the 4,372 km.

Alesandro came in some time after Bernada and camped at the beach for the night. Peter arrived in the morning and after showering at my hotel we had breakfast with Andi in the old town. Johan came in later the day. It was a treat to be able to catch up with the other riders and we had a dinner the next night. Unfortunately Irena, Bernada and Peter had left. Below is me next to Johan and Alesandro. I’m such a shrimp.

Thanks to Andi for all your work in making such an amazing event. And thanks to all the fellow riders who made it such an adventure.