How far can you push yourself? In 2024, I set out to find the answer during my first ultra-cycling race, the Race Across France. Over four days and 1160km, I discovered both the limits of my endurance and the beauty of the journey

Why Race Across France?

After completing my 5000km bikepacking trip in 2023, I wanted to try something new the following year—an ultra-cycling race. Among the many options in France, I chose the Race Across France because it seemed accessible for beginners.

The event offers distances ranging from 200km to 2500km. For my first attempt, the full 2500km felt too daunting, so I signed up for the 1000km route (which turned out to be 1160km in reality). This route included three base camps where participants could access food, a camping bed, and a shower. These facilities made it easier for newcomers like me to focus solely on riding without worrying about safety or logistics.

Nightly departure

The race began on Monday evening with staggered starts every 30 seconds to ensure a solo experience—drafting is not allowed. My start time was 10:03 PM, and my plan was to reach the first base camp by Tuesday night.

This first stage covered 289km with an elevation gain of over 6600m. Starting from Anglet in the Basque Country, the route traversed four mountain passes: Ahusquy, Marie-Blanque, Spandelles, and the iconic Tourmalet, before ending in Bagnères-de-Bigorre.

Cycling through the night was one of the most memorable parts of the race. The excitement of the start kept me wide awake, and I quickly tackled the first two passes. At the summit of Marie-Blanque, I was rewarded with a stunning sunrise, its warmth cutting through the chill of the night.

However, things became challenging on the climb to Spandelles. I had underestimated my food needs, and without an open bakery in sight, my energy levels plummeted. The 10km climb at an average gradient of 8.3% felt endless. After finding food in Argelès-Gazost, I took a much-needed half-hour break to eat and recover before the Tourmalet.

I began the Tourmalet climb at 2 PM under the searing sun. With temperatures exceeding 30°C and little shade, it was a grueling ascent. Multiple breaks were necessary, but eventually, I reached the summit and descended to the base camp for a well-deserved meal and seven hours of sleep.

The Grueling Second Day

I started my second stage at 4 AM, facing a 349km ride—the longest of my life. Fatigue from the first day lingered, but my strategy to prioritize sleep paid off. Feeling fresher, I overtook many cyclists who had slept less.

Despite the advantage, the stage was tough. I spent 17 hours on the bike, and with food stops and short breaks, I didn’t reach the second base camp until 11 PM. Exhausted, I slept six hours that night.

Facing Mont Ventoux

The third stage, a 250km ride, was supposed to be shorter and mostly flat until the end, where Mont Ventoux loomed. Unfortunately, the relentless heat made this day the hardest for me. I struggled to stay cool and eventually took a 20-minute nap in a public park.

As the day wore on, I found it increasingly difficult to eat sweet foods. My body craved salty snacks, which made it harder to meet the calorie demands of the race.

By evening, I reached Malaucène, the base of Mont Ventoux, and decided to wait for cooler temperatures. At 8 PM, I began the climb, reaching the summit two and a half hours later. The experience of cycling up Ventoux at night was surreal and unforgettable.

The descent, however, was nerve-wracking. In complete darkness, the cold cut through my jacket, and I was eager to reach the final base camp in Sault. Arriving late, I struggled to find a place to sleep, but managed a short four-hour rest before my final push to the finish line.

The Verdon Gorge and the Mediterranean Sea

The last day was the most visually stunning. The route took me through the Verdon Gorge on narrow roads skirting towering cliffs. Despite the beauty, the heat was again punishing. Still, the thought of the finish line kept me moving.

My body was falling apart by this point—bruised hands and feet, aching neck and back, and legs that felt like lead. For the final 100km, I checked my GPS every kilometer and counted down pedal strokes.

As I reached the top of the last climb, the Mediterranean Sea came into view, less than four days after I had started from the Atlantic. The sight overwhelmed me with emotion, and I descended to Mandelieu-la-Napoule with tears in my eyes.

Crossing the finish line to cheers from other participants and a small crowd was a moment of pure joy. I had met my goal, finishing the 1160km in 94 hours and 56 minutes—just an hour and four minutes under my target of 4 days. Out of 302 starters, I ranked 89th.

Reflections

This race taught me that ultra-cycling is as much about mental resilience as it is about physical endurance. The highs and lows tested me in ways I never expected, but they also made the experience unforgettable.

When I crossed the finish line, I swore, “Never again.” The exhaustion, the heat, and the relentless climbs had pushed me to my limits. But just a few days later, I found myself reminiscing about the journey and wondering, What’s next? Ultra-cycling has a way of pulling you back in, and this race was just the beginning.

Introduction:

Embarking on this audacious journey from Strasbourg to the enchanting Lofoten Islands was a decision fueled by my curiosity, a thirst for adventure, and the pursuit of self-discovery. As questions of where, how far, when, and how lingered, I set the stage for my epic 37-day cycling odyssey through the heart of Europe to the northern reaches of Scandinavia.

Chapter 1: The Call of the North:

Now that my decision was made, I delved into preparing for this exceptional journey. Knowing that the majority of my route would be on roads, I chose to use my Canyon Endurace CF SL 7 instead of investing in a touring or gravel bike. Not only would this allow me to cover more kilometers each day, but I knew this bike inside out. I knew how to disassemble and repair it in case of any issues.
As for luggage, I opted for the complete set of Apidura accessories (saddlebag, frame pack, handlebar bag, etc.)

I made a separate article for all the details about the bikepacking gears. You can read it here

Weather, terrain, and kilometers were the factors dominating the route-planning phase, ultimately leading to my decision to prioritize Sweden. I meticulously laid out the detailed route on Komoot, promising a mix of awe-inspiring landscapes and diverse encounters.

Check the full route on Komoot.

Chapter 2: First Pedals and Unexpected Challenges:

The long-awaited day arrived, and my journey began just a few kilometers from Strasbourg, heading towards the German border. The first day turned out to be tougher than expected, with stifling heat of 30°C, 150 km to cover, and a boring elevation gain of only 250 meters, mainly along the Rhine. Thankfully, the excitement of the first day carried me to Hockenheim, where I wild-camped for the night.

Day two brought a thermal shock as temperatures plummeted to 1°C in the night. A 207 km journey with a WarmShowers host as the evening's destination turned into a tale of unexpected camaraderie and warmth in more ways than one.

Crossing Germany swiftly in the following days, brief stops at WarmShowers hosts provided not just shelter but also a chance to recharge, refresh, and share tales of adventure. A pause in Lübeck and a ferry ride to Denmark marked the transition into a new phase of my journey.

Chapter 3: Danish Delights and Wooden Shelters:

As the ferry doors closed gently behind me, a mix of emotions overwhelmed me. This was the moment when everything became very real. I was arriving in a country I had never visited, and it was only just beginning. A thought crossed my mind, "Is this real? Are you making a mistake here?" But this worry quickly dissipated as I climbed onto the deck to watch Germany fade away. Three-quarters of an hour later, I was finally in Denmark. A few more kilometers and I reached my shelter for the night.

"Why would you lock your bike, you're in Denmark here."

I had reserved this shelter for only 2 to 3 euros, and I found firewood, a closed space with a shower, toilet, and electricity. I was pleasantly surprised by its good condition. While I unpacked my belongings, a local villager came to check on me and chat for a bit. At that moment, I was securing my bike to a tree, and he said with a smile, "Why would you lock your bike, you're in Denmark here."

A sunny but windy day welcomed me as I explored Denmark. I was impressed by the cycling infrastructure, both in the city and the countryside. I had booked accommodation in Copenhagen to take a well-deserved day of rest and assess my first week of travel.

It was during this rest day that I realized how far I had come: 1118 km in just 7 days, averaging 160 km per day. However, the consequences were starting to affect my body. My knees, feet, back, hands, and even my buttocks were causing me pain. What worried me the most was the saddle soreness. If it developed into irritation, it could compromise the rest of my journey. Healing an irritation would have required several days of rest, which I couldn't afford. I quickly understood that the main issue wasn't my saddle, as I was used to riding long distances over several days, but rather the time spent in the saddle each day. With 160 km to cover daily, I was spending about 8 hours on the bike. When adding in breaks during the day, I had little time left in the evening to recover, between meal preparation, hygiene, laundry, etc.

It was time to adjust my itinerary. I decided to shorten the distance per day and skip the detour to Stockholm, saving me 200 km. My new plan was to ride for a shorter duration each day, around 6 hours, but without taking any rest days. It was a risky gamble, but I was willing to try. With this change of plan in mind, I took advantage of my rest day to explore Copenhagen and, most importantly, rest.

Chapter 4: Swedish Serenity and Cycling Companions:

The entry into Sweden marked a shift in scenery, with vast forests, stunning lakes, and the absence of crowds. Cycling through national parks and encountering fellow cyclists added a sense of camaraderie to my solo journey. A chance encounter with two French cyclists brought about a welcome change in dynamics and a pleasant evening on a Swedish beach.

Venturing further into the heart of Sweden, the landscapes evolved, requiring meticulous planning for essentials due to increased distances between villages. The encounter with the third WarmShowers host in Falun provided not just shelter but a shared passion for cycling and travel.

As my journey continued northeast, gravel roads became more frequent, and I adapted to the challenges they presented. The gradual increase in elevation and the mental fatigue were met with a strategic decision to take a short 1-day break in Umeå.

During the 21st stage, I stumbled upon the most incredible refuge of my entire journey. It consisted of four small cabins: one for storing firewood, one for toilets, one with a table and space for sleeping, and finally one with a wood-fired sauna. I quickly lit a fire and enjoyed the sauna. A nearby river allowed me to make three round trips between the 70°C sauna and the 10°C water. It felt incredible after a long day of cycling.

Chapter 5: Reindeer and Arctic Dreams:

The days in Lapland were marked by encounters with reindeer, desolate stretches of road, and a chance crossing of the Arctic Circle in Rovaniemi. My journey unfolded with mesmerizing landscapes and the joy of wild camping.

Until now, I hadn't had the chance to see reindeer, and I was tempted to visit the "Santa Claus Zoo" to observe them up close. However, I changed my mind, preferring to meet reindeer in their natural environment rather than in a park. So, I decided to leave the village and venture further into Lapland.

This was one of the best decision of my trip, because that evening, while I was pitching my tent, I heard footsteps coming towards me. When I look up, I see four reindeer passing by about ten meters away from me. They gaze at me for a moment, then stop to graze right in front of me.

The next morning, I woke up with the reindeer just 3-4 meters from my tent, lying on the ground. It's one of the most magical awakenings of my entire journey.

Day 28 marked my arrival in Norway, a culmination of the first phase of the expedition. The breathtaking beauty of Norwegian fjords and cliffs, combined with the warmth of the 24-hour sun, made the initial days in the country a visual feast.

Chapter 6: Nordkapp - A Triumph in Norway:

As my journey progressed deeper into Norway, I found myself in awe of the stunning landscapes along the fjords. The approach to Nordkapp promised not just a physical challenge but also an unrivaled visual spectacle.

Day 29 marked my arrival at the Nordkapp Tunnel, a challenging 7 km passage beneath the Arctic Ocean. The final push towards Nordkapp, with its steep climbs and mesmerizing views, resulted in an early arrival, two days ahead of schedule. The overwhelming emotions at reaching the symbolic end of my journey were a mix of pride, joy, and a touch of melancholy.

It's time for me to stand on the monument base, take beautiful pictures, and enjoy a well-deserved beer. I meet several other cyclists on the spot, and many people come to see me, asking where I'm from and chatting with me.

I spent a few hours at Nordkapp, exploring every corner of the site to make the most of it. I meet cyclists I had encountered earlier in the day or in the preceding days. It's time to go back; tonight, I'll be sleeping at the nearest campground to Nordkapp, to enjoy this completely crazy place a bit more.

Chapter 7: The Homeward Stretch through Scandinavia:

The final leg of my journey from Nordkapp to the Lofoten Islands marked a shift in pace. With the pressure of reaching the destination lifted, I embraced a more leisurely exploration of the Norwegian coast.

The unexpected celebration of Midsommar in the village of Lyngen added a cultural touch to my journey. A chance encounter with a Sami man, Per, opened a window into the rich Sami culture, creating an unforgettable experience.

The misty embrace of the island of Senja added an ethereal quality to the narrative. Despite the disappointment of obscured views, I embraced the mystery and unpredictability that comes with such adventures.

After leaving the island of Senja, I take a ferry to Andoya Island, the last stop before reaching the famous Lofoten Islands, a paradise on Earth with its majestic landscapes and picturesque fishing villages. From here on, the landscapes become even more spectacular, and I'd prefer to let the images speak to describe the beauty of these places.

After two days exploring the Lofoten Islands, I managed to reach Å, the southernmost fishing village in this archipelago. This is the end of my journey. I tally up all the kilometers I've traveled, and the total comes to 4980 km. However, I still have one small desire: to make a round trip to reach the symbolic figure of 5000 km, a fitting accomplishment to mark the end of this extraordinary adventure. So here I am, making a 20km detour after 37 days of cycling. The irony.

Conclusion:

This bicycle journey through Northern Europe has been an incredible adventure, filled with discoveries, challenges, and unforgettable encounters. From my beginnings in Strasbourg, France, to my arrival at the stunning Lofoten Islands, I have traveled over 5000 kilometers through six different countries.

This expedition allowed me to explore the diversity of Nordic landscapes, from the lush plains of Denmark to the majestic fjords of Norway, passing through the vast forests of Sweden and Finland. I have also been fortunate to meet extraordinary individuals along the way, from warm-hearted hosts through WarmShowers to local residents who welcomed me with generosity.

Bicycle travel is much more than a mere geographical exploration and sports accomplishment. It is an experience of self-discovery, a connection with nature, and an opportunity to discover new cultures. It is a constant reminder that effort and perseverance can take you far, quite literally.

As I conclude my journey in the Lofoten Islands, I realize that the adventure never truly ends. The memories of this voyage will remain etched in my mind, and I hope they have inspired you, too, to explore the world in your own way, be it by bicycle, on foot, or otherwise.

So, no matter where your next adventure takes you, remember that the journey itself is the reward. It's where you'll find the most precious moments, the most profound lessons, and the feeling of being alive.

Thank you for following me throughout this journey, and who knows, perhaps our paths will cross on the road someday. Until then, hit the road and explore this vast world that surrounds us. Safe travels!

In May 2023 I started a 5 weeks trip from France to Nordkapp. You can read the story here.

This is the setup that I used:

Bike:

• Bike: Canyon Endurace CF SL 7
• Wheels: DT Swiss Endurance LN
• Gears: Sram Rival Etap AXS. 35-48 chainring and 11-34 cassette

Bags:

• Apidura Expedition Handlebar Pack 9L
• Apidura Expedition Full Frame Pack 14L
• Apidura Expedition Saddle Pack 17L
• Apidura Racing Long Top Tube Pack 2L
• Decathlon food pouch

Sleeping and cooking system

• Tent: MSR 1p
• Sleeping pad: Decathlon MT900
• Sleeping bag: Black Snow 0°C
• Cooking: JetBoil Zip

Repair kit:

• Inner tubes x2
• Quick link
• Multitool with chain tool included
• Mini pump
• Chain lube
• Zip ties

Clothes

• 1x cycling short
• 1x cycling t-shirt
• 1x leg warmers and arm warmers
• 1x windproof cover
• 1x warm cycling jacket
• 1x warm gloves
• 1x short (non-cycling)
• 1x t-shirt (non-cycling)
• 1x non-cycling underwear
• 2x socks (Always keep one dry to sleep and to warm up when wet)

I brought the minimum quantity of clothes to reduce weight and especially volume. I had to wash my stuff every day and dry the non-cycling clothes when cycling and the cycling ones during sleep.

Other

• Medical kit
• Sleeping mask (to put over the eyes when it's sunny 24/7)