For many gravel and adventure riders, the decision to enter a 720km long bikepacking event which contains a mighty 19,000m of climbing would be one that was taken after a lot of careful consideration and only with the right preparation in place. For Valerio Stuart though, the decision was made on the spur of the moment after some holiday plans fell through. With barely any time for preparation and a mountain of untested kit, would he survive or would he end up scratching?
Stunning images courtesy of Chiara Redaschi and Manuel Gatto
I was at home going through my bikepacking kit list and looking at the slightly worrying weather forecast for the Dolomites, impatient to get there the following week, to meet up with a friend for six days of exploring some beautiful landscapes, hitting some famous climbs, sleeping high up in some mountain huts and enjoying cycling in one of the most beautiful parts of the Italian Alps if not of the world.
Then I got a call and everything changed. The trip had to be called off. Plans are to be scrapped.
“The trip has to be called off. Plans are to be scrapped.”
In the months leading up to it, I spent ages piecing together various GPXs, researching trails connecting the main landmarks and coming up with a plan for each day that was challenging but achievable. We were aiming for around 2-2500m of climbing each day which on some days means cycling for just over 50km. All of this for nothing.
“I decided to sign up and almost instantly had a feeling of impending doom”
As I was contemplating what to do, I stumbled on the Instagram page of an event that had caught my attention earlier in the year, which takes place roughly in the same area and at the same time as my original plan. The event was the Memory Bike Adventure - a 720km & 19,000m+ race organised by the Enough team. I was semi-secretly planning to take part in an ultra-cycling race next year after having actually trained for it and tested myself in smaller events. So, the thought of just jumping into one now, completely unprepared, seemed daft. I mentioned it to a couple of friends(?!) and they encouraged me to give it a try - what’s the worst that could happen? Easy for them to say. Nevertheless, I decided to sign up and almost instantly had “buyer’s remorse” or shall I say, “a feeling of impending doom”.
In the lead-up to the race, I did as much research as possible into the ultra-cycling world and tried to discover some useful tactics, tips and tricks. The best possible training to do two weeks before the race appeared to be just resting, which was something I’m very good at. At least I was off to a good start! I discussed the upcoming challenge with a couple of people I know with ultradistance and bikepacking experience and made the most of the advice from experts like Sofiane Sehili and James Hayden that they shared online. Everyone agreed that to maximise the probability of success in a race, one should thoroughly test their kit in advance. Therefore, it seems appropriate that I paired my lack of training with a set-up comprising new tyres, a new rear wheel, a new frame bag and hydration system and a new sleeping bag. Wonderful.
“Just ride your own ride, don’t get caught up in the race”
The best advice I was given was from Alex Berry who knows a thing or two about ultras. “Just ride your own ride, don’t get caught up in the race” and in response to my panicking messages “the biggest challenge was your mindset…work on that quickly!”. To anyone considering doing an ultra-event of any kind, I can now vouch for that advice, as I spent the rest of the days before the race convincing myself that I would make it.
“I decided to leave all my warm gear at the hotel including the sleeping bag.”
I was in Bassano del Grappa, where the race was due to start at 7 pm, with the riders’ briefing taking place earlier in the afternoon. Having already checked out from the hotel at 10 am, I was in full cycling mode which, coupled with a very hot summer day and being surrounded by some amazing bikes and set-ups, didn’t help with trying to stay calm and relaxed before the start. Everyone was fine-tuning their kit and as the weather forecast for the following day was incredibly good (with the exception of some potential thunderstorms) other riders were shedding their kit to make it as lightweight as possible. Unfortunately, I get caught up in that, especially having spotted a few people sizing up, and even lifting up, my bike which was clearly one of the heaviest ones around. “If it’s going to be this warm, I don’t mind getting a bit wet” I thought to myself and I decided to leave all my warm gear at the hotel including the sleeping bag. Fool.
DAY 1 - My plan was to pace myself and to get at least a couple of hours of sleep every night including the first night, so that hopefully I will finish in the early afternoon of the last day. While it would be tempting to try to stick with the front of the group, after we set off, I find my own pace and ride in a small group of riders.
My plan for the first day - I should say night - was to find somewhere to sleep around 100-150 km into the race. The first part of the route was fairly flat and I planned to climb no more than 1500m. In my schedule, I also had a list of B&Bs along the route that I was going to call once I had a better idea of where I was going to get to that night. We had barely done 50km when my chain snapped. I got off the bike and retrieved the broken chain, right in front of the event photographer who happened to be positioned just a few metres away. I got my multi-tool and quick links out (accompanied by some blasphemous swearing that I’ll spare the readers’ blushes by not including here). The air was hot and humid, it was now dark and a swarm of mosquitoes attracted by the headlight jumped in for a late snack. Helped by Mauro, the chain eventually goes back on and I was able to ride again.
“I was glad to have a solid roof over my head.”
That night I got less than two hours of sleep, thanks partly to the adrenaline, but mostly thanks to a violent thunderstorm that woke me up repeatedly. My thoughts went to those that had decided to bivvy out or just push through and I was glad to have a solid roof over my head.
DAY 2 - The day started with Passo San Boldo, a long climb that set the theme for the following days. Fortunately, it was on tarmac and shortly after reaching the top, I managed to catch up with a couple of riders. While we took shelter from the rain, we received some shocking photos via the riders’ WhatsApp group from people caught up by a storm up ahead on Col Vicentin, advising others to find shelter and not approach the climb till the storm has passed.
“I wondered if standing under a tree and next to a metallic guardrail was a good idea, as I stared at lightning flashing in the sky.”
As the sky was clearing, I decided to set off as Checkpoint 1 was still over 100km away. I got back on the bike and was climbing to reach Col Vicentin when the sunlight suddenly went off. It was just past 10 am but it was so dark it could easily have been 10 pm. I was now surrounded by black clouds and it only took a couple of minutes for the heavens to open. As the thunderstorm hit me, I was exactly mid-way between the next rifugio at the top of the mountain and the one I left about an hour before. I had no idea how long the thunderstorm was going to last but it was impossible to ride, so I sought shelter under a tree along the road. I now had phone signal again and started getting messages from the group advising me to be careful as a pedestrian had been struck by lightning further down along the route. I wondered if standing under a tree and next to a metallic guardrail was a good idea, as I stared at lightning flashing in the sky.
After waiting for more than an hour, the storm passed by and I got going as fast as possible trying to warm up. The weather eventually improved and so did my mood, especially as I stopped for ice-cream at the next village. The rest of the day was fortunately dry, but with another thunderstorm approaching in the early evening, I decided to stop early and sleep in a B&B again. My legs were not particularly tired and I felt good enough to carry on, but I reminded myself that it was going to be a long race for me and I should play it safe at least for now.
DAY 3 - I left the B&B at 4 am, after having made the most of the breakfast and consumed an unhealthy amount of Nutella. I soon reached the start of the climb to Monte Grappa, where the largest Italian military ossuary of the First World War was. The shrine contains the remains of tens of thousands of soldiers, both Italian and Austro-Hungarian, who lost their lives during the Great War. The thought of the memorial and what it represented puts my struggles into perspective and as I tackled the hairpins leading to the top, I tried to focus on the fact that any small discomfort I was experiencing would eventually pass.
I eventually reached the first checkpoint, a good couple of hours ahead of my schedule and against all odds. I was at the back of the pack but riding 300 km & 8000m+ of climbing in 41 hours was something I was proud of regardless and I felt like I had already won my own little race.
“Things keep getting better and better”.
After getting some food and water, I got back on the bike, knowing that there was plenty left to ride and another clock had just started ticking - I needed to get to CP2 by 5 pm the following day and the Asiago plateau awaited me. I reached the shores of Lake Corlo, when another thunderstorm hit the route. Luckily, I was near some houses and I found a shelter. As I lay down to get some rest, I noticed some writing on an old tractor parked next to me which said “Di bene in meglio.” This can be translated as “Things keep getting better and better”. How ironic.
The rest of the ride was fairly bleak. The storm was gone, but the humidity was high especially as most of the climb was through some woods. About midway through the climb, I stumble in a couple busy cutting down some timber at the side of the trail. They couldn’t believe their eyes seeing a cyclist there at that time and tried talking me out of carrying on up the trail, especially as it was getting dark and cold. According to them, I wouldn’t find any shelter and there were plenty of wolves in the area! I decide to continue climbing, although I now kept turning to watch my back as I heard all sorts of creaking noises coming from the trees along the trail.
I finally got to the Altopiano as the sun sets and realised that I definitely won’t find any accommodation or resupply point there. I kept on stopping to look around for shelter, hoping to find at least a roof should I get caught in a storm while bivvying, but with no luck. As I was getting pretty cold while the temperature dropped further, I found a couple of houses that looked empty. As I reccied the area around the house I spotted a wooden shed which could be an even better sleeping option. I got inside but a strong stench of gasoline hit me. There were several barrels of fuel, some sort of generator going and a farming cart and tools. I went back to the house porch instead, put on my down jacket on and got into the bivvy bag, aiming to get three hours of sleep.
“I was freezing cold and although it was not raining, my down jacket was wet due to how damp the air was.”
It hadn’t even been an hour when I woke up shivering. I was freezing cold and although it was not raining, my down jacket was wet due to how damp the air was. I got up and rushed to the shed. The door doesn’t lock so I used an axe to barricade myself inside, in a scene that looks like some apocalyptic film. From that point onwards I found myself in a loop where I woke up shivering and ended up repeatedly snoozing my alarm until it was 5am.
DAY 4 - “I’m scratching”. That’s all I could think of as I dragged myself towards the bike, with my hands shaking. I put my arm warmers on my legs and I put my jacket on. All the cycling clothes I had left under the porch were soaked. I’d stopped for more than twice as long as I allowed for that night, my breakfast was a couple of disgusting gels and I was running out of water. “This is no longer fun” I thought to myself.
“He had seen my head torch during the night and was just curious to know what the hell I was doing there.”
As I was packing up my stuff, an old guy came out of the house next door. He approached me and I prepared myself for some explaining and apologising. He was actually quite friendly and explained that he had seen my head torch during the night and was just curious to know what the hell I was doing there. As I tried to explain that I was taking part in a race, he started to tell me everything about several potential ways to get back to civilisation and even invited me in for a coffee. As tempting as it sounded, I thanked him and got going as I was desperate to get moving to warm myself up.
The weather looked decent, although the sun was still too low to provide any decent warmth. I rode past a few malghe(working farms/mountain huts) that sold cheese and snacks and could sometimes provide shelter. Unfortunately, it was still only 7 am so they were closed and I had to push on. I didn’t have any food or water left, but there was nothing I could do other than keep pedalling.
I hit one of the hike-a-bike sections of the route called Citta’ di Roccia, which was a very appropriate name for the trail as it was a big rock garden. It was actually fun. I was now warming up thanks to the sun and this trail helped get a smile back on my face.
It was 10 am when I finally found a malghe that was open and served food. The rest of the ride on the plateau was misleadingly “flat”. There were a lot of ups but also a lot of exhilarating downs and I stumbled across marmots, ibexes and of course sheep and cows on my path. The landscapes were amazing and the smooth gravel road was a pleasure to ride, as it took me through lush green valleys.
When I finally reached Checkpoint 2, I was welcomed by Victor who prepared a delicious warm soup and one of the best vegetarian burgers I have ever had. Being cold and depressed was now a distant memory. The thought of scratching was long gone and I was determined to fight for another day.
I left CP2 at around 4 pm and another clock started ticking. I had until 10 am the next morning to get to CP3. Meanwhile, the organisers were already celebrating the first riders arriving at the finish line festival! I looked at the course on my phone and while I did have some climbing to do, a nice long downhill awaited me to get to the next village where I planned to resupply. I tried not to be, but a part of me was cautiously optimistic. Fool.
"When I finally got out of the trenches, I was a broken man."
The climb out of CP2 turned out to be a bit of a slog, but what was worse was that I had completely forgotten that at the top of the climb the Forra del Lupo (Gorge of the Wolf) hike-a-bike was waiting for me. It’s a trail through military gorges and trenches created during WWI. These trenches were built on a ridge by the Austro-Hungarian army and comprised very narrow sections and slippery rocky steps. In most places lifting your bike was just not possible due to how narrow the trail was. In others, I seemed to spend ages figuring out whether to go first and drag the bike down or just throw the bike and hope it landed ok. I nearly went for the latter a couple of times. When I finally got out of the trenches, I was a broken man.
DAY 5 - I didn’t really feel rested, but manage to drag myself out of the B&B bed. The day started with a relentless climb that went on forever. Or perhaps I was simply incredibly slow!
“There was something wrong with my knee which forced me to stop repeatedly.”
Once I arrived at around 1800m a.s.l. the hike-a-bike section started and I immediately understood why the guys at Enough stressed that this was a dangerous section, not to be tackled at night or in bad weather. The trail was narrow and completely exposed with a 700m drop on one side. I lifted my bike and started the hike, but there was something wrong with my knee which forced me to stop repeatedly. Perhaps it was all the riding, perhaps it was all the walking wearing shoes with carbon soles, perhaps it was that I never had a bike fit with the bike (oops!) but the pain was killing me. Once I finally got to the military cemetery of Brigata Liguria I understood the reason for including the hike-a-bike in the route. I didn’t find Forra del Lupo worthy of the effort nor of being part of the route despite the historical relevance, but the view from the Pasubio was stunning and the descent, oh the descent. It made me forget the entire climb.
The military cemetery near the top was built by the Liguria Infantry Brigade during WWI, stationed on the Pasubio and was tasked with defending the Italian front. Their motto was “Di qui non si passa” (None shall pass from here) which was now quoted by a wrought iron sign at the entrance to the cemetery.
At that point I worked out that I had about 90 minutess to cycle 35km and reach CP3. For my legs that was incredibly tight, even in normal circumstances. On a loaded bike after few days of riding, it just felt impossible. I came down the mountain flying as if I had no brakes, but as soon as I hit the flat bit of road my knee nearly had me in tears for the pain.
I tried to push on, but I was forced to coast a few times as I couldn’t bend my knee. I realised that I was not going to make it in time. In a weird way I almost felt glad about it, as being forced out of the race would feel easier than deciding whether to scratch or to continue. It was 10:05 am when I got to the checkpoint.
“I’m really scratching this time”.
“He swore that some ibuprofen and polenta would get me going in no time.”
I found a couple of riders packing up ready to leave. We shook hands, exchanged hugs and they congratulated me as I get my brevet card stamped. I explained that it doesn’t matter as I was too late and my knee wouldn’t allow me to carry on anyway. “What do you mean scratching??!! You got this far!” Manuel from Enough told me as I found out that the cut-off time had been moved to 12 pm which I must have missed at the riders’ briefing session. He swore that some ibuprofen and polenta would get me going in no time. “If I decide to scratch then there’s no harm in taking some ibuprofen now, I think, especially with some food” so I kindly accepted his offer and sat down.
“I had routed the chain incorrectly on the first day”
While I waited for the food to arrive, I stared at my bike with the void expression of a zombie, when my eyes popped in disbelief. The reason why I’d been struggling so much with my chain, especially when using the largest cogs, was because I had routed the chain incorrectly on the first day! Shimano GRX rear derailleurs have a protective plate between the two jockey wheels and I had routed the chain around it instead of behind it. I was speechless. I don’t know anything about power, watts and other cycling metrics, but I was sure I had wasted a lot of effort in the last 450km due to this silly mistake. Bonkers. After fiddling with chain and rear mech, I was suddenly a lot more positive about the race. Perhaps it was the ibuprofen talking or the fact that it felt like my rear cassette just got bigger, but I now felt like I could make it to the finish!
The next section of the route was amazing and had a bit of everything from singletrack to tarmac, from smooth gravel to bumpy downhill sections. Views of huge landscapes and narrow sections through woodland. Villages where road signs mix Italian and German. I turned on my lights as the sky turned pink and I rode in the dark through groups of eyes staring at me. Just cows fortunately, no wolves! My knee started hurting again, forcing me to take several stops as my bruised hands and backside also asked for a break.
At the end of the day, my GPS logged nearly 21hrs of activity, as I cycled 180 km with 5000m of climbing. Mind-blowing numbers for someone like me and only possible thanks to the amazing landscapes the route took me through, combined with an unhealthy dose of stubbornness (and ibuprofen).
DAY 6 - The alarm goes off: “why do I bother, I think, as I snoozed the alarm repeatedly - it’s not like I’m going to win this thing”. I had until 7 pm to ride 70 km with less than 2000m of climbing. Compared to the previous days it felt like it was going to be an easy ride…
The threat of thunderstorms was long gone and the day was a hot one with temperatures around 35 degs C. The final day took me along a mule track and through (literally) Mount Cengio, which was for me one of the highlights if not THE highlight of the entire route. Perhaps being so close to the finish put me in a good mood but this trail was as impressive as the history behind it was sad and sorrowful. During the First World War, the Austro-Hungarian army attacked Veneto and Trentino, overcoming the first Italian defences and arriving in Asiago. The Grenadiers Brigade of Sardinia were sent to Mount Cengio to hold this last rampart. Tens of thousands of men were barricaded on the mountain with no guns, little ammunition and scarce supplies of food and water. Only a thousand survived. The resistance was unsuccessful as the Austrian army eventually managed to take control of Mount Cengio, but at a huge cost of lives and resources. The desperate resistance of the Grenadiers ultimately led to the retreat of the Austrian army.
“I didn’t break down in tears of sadness or joy - I would say I was more in shock and disbelief.”
I finally got to the finish line at midday and was greeted by the organisers and a few riders that had arrived in the morning. Before the race, I wondered how I would feel should I get to the finish line. I didn’t break down in tears of sadness or joy - I would say I was more in shock and disbelief. I regretted not pushing harder and taking a fairly conservative approach to the event, but that also might just be the reason that I had made it through. Roughly 50% of the participants scratched from the event, most of them in the first couple of days.
My only other memories from the finish were eating an insane amount of pasta, having ice-cream(s), falling asleep on a bench and eventually realising that I wasn’t going to get a lift to the start of the race, where I had left my bike box and where I would take a train to Venice. I had no other option but to ride with my 60-litre backpack on my back! Fortunately, the 40 km ride back to Bassano was nearly all downhill, a well-deserved prize for all the climbing I had done in the previous days! If I didn’t earn my “ultra-cyclist” virtual badge with the race performance, I certainly did with the additional ride.
Final thoughts
While I can’t recommend anyone signing up to an ultra-cycling event on a whim like I did, I would say that if you have the desire to try a similar event but you’re uncertain about your preparation, then just do it! As long as you don’t put yourself or others in a dangerous situation anyway. I found the Memory Bike Adventure a perfect first experience as, despite having some remote and potentially dangerous sections, it’s still within a populated area and you’re never too far away from help should you need it.
I have learnt an awful lot from this experience and I’m glad I tried it, despite my lack of preparation, rather than investing a year of time and training to sign up for an even bigger race with no previous experience, only to potentially scratch within 24-48 hours due to fatigue, illness or mechanical issues. I was lucky that I had no major issues, but as only 50% of the riders managed to complete the event, I now understand that luck and not just experience plays a big part in these events. I’m convinced I would be glad I gave it a shot, even if I had scratched soon into the race (although perhaps not in the first 50km!) as I feel that there’s no substitute for the experience of being in an actual race. Furthermore, I would have not found out what I’m capable of, nor pushed myself outside of my comfort zone during a normal bikepacking trip.
I can’t compare my experience with other races, but if I compare it to a couple of difficult bikepacking trips I did in the past - I came back from the Badger Divide telling myself I would never ride a bike again - this time I don’t have to wait weeks or months for my brain to erase the bad times and look at the type-2 fun moments with a smile - this time I already know I want more of it.
To find out more about the Memory Bike Adventure, please head over to their website
You can see all the details of Valerio's route here:
Stunning images courtesy of Chiara Redaschi and Manuel Gatto