“I begin to wonder what I had let myself in for”

“How much would it cost to hire a seat in the course director’s car?” I don’t normally send WhatsApp messages to someone who is less than 10 meters away, but on this occasion, needs must. “A Trek bike” replied event director Carlo, without even adding a smiley face to the end of his message. “Done” I replied. As I peered out from ezyup under which I was sheltering, I could see Carlo and event safety manager Mike standing a few meters away across the carpark, also hiding from the downpour under another ezyup. The rain was bouncing 10cm off the floor and thunder and lightning was rattling overhead. As the group of riders sheltering from the raging mountain storm swelled in number and the monsoon-esque rain bounced ever higher off the surface of the carpark at the 906 m Station des Bagenelles, I begin to wonder what I had let myself in for. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured I would be spending my week at The Ride Gravel.

The day before, as the coach that the event organisers had laid on to get participants to the start line arrived at our first night’s campsite, there was an audible ‘ooooh’ from the other passengers as they gazed out at the incredibly impressive looking campsite and event village set-up. Hot sunshine beat down from an azure sky. Our home for the night was surrounded by heavily wooded hills, with higher mountains just visible in the distance. A sea of dome tents had been laid out in neat rows. 

Once we had signed on and received a well-stuffed event goody bag, we grabbed our luggage and headed off in search of our allocated tent. I was fortunate enough to have been upgraded to the Bold & Beautiful package, which meant a very spacious tent awaited me. Each one was numbered and came complete with camp bed, camp chair, battery powered light and pre-charged electrical power pack.

“The organisers kick-started the process of getting to know our fellow riders”

By setting out the tents in neatly ordered rows, the organisers kick-started the process of getting to know our fellow riders and as we unpacked and fettled bikes and kit, everyone chatted amicably and started to form the bonds of friendship that would last through the event and beyond. It was here that I first got to know Helen (“I’ve brought with me the most heavily mountain bike inspired gravel bike that I could find”), Marc (“I’ve competed in numerous endurance MTB events in the past”), André (“I signed up two years ago with a friend, but unfortunately he couldn’t make the re-scheduled date, so my wife agreed to come and ride with me instead”) and Marin & Jeroen (“We travelled over from California to Holland to visit family and wanted to take part in a gravel event while we were over in Europe”).

As the week progressed, despite the large number of overall participants, familiar faces would appear regularly during each day’s ride and stories would be shared over the communal dining tables during dinner each evening and afterwards around a campfire.

Image courtesy of Merlijn Spenkelink

“99% of the Dutch and Belgian riders could switch languages at the click of a metaphorical finger. “

“I work in the aggregates industry” said Erwin, as we climbed ever higher on the morning of Stage 1. “So, I spend every day working with gravel and then choose to spend my holiday on gravel too!”. As one of only a small handful of native English speakers taking part in the event, I was initially a little worried about how I would converse with my fellow riders, but I soon realised that 99% of the Dutch and Belgian riders could switch languages at the click of a metaphorical finger. 

It was also amazing how our shared love of gravel riding, bikes, spending time in the mountains and the buzz of taking on a pretty challenging physical activity soon overcame any language barriers. Often all it needed was something to break the ice. In Erwin’s case it was the screaming orange paintjob of his Open U.P. that kicked things off. I’d been sitting on his wheel as he set a blistering pace up the first gravel climb, but as we turned a corner and the gravel petered out and turned back into a paved surface, I put in a little burst of speed, rode alongside him and told him how much I approved of his choice of paint scheme.

With nearly 150 riders taking part in the event, it wasn’t possible to talk to everyone, but it was amazing how quickly we got to know our fellow riders. I have a brain like a goldfish with chronic amnesia when it comes to remembering names, but luckily everyone had their name on their number boards. It was easy to identify riders by other characteristics too – bike type was the obvious one, but riding background (it was pretty obvious whether a rider came from a road or MTB background), kit choice (full-euro-disco/all-in-black-ninja/baggies/whatever-is-left-that’s-clean/custom-made team kit) and even stature (stereotypical giant Dutch riders) were also easy identifiers. 

Image courtesy of Merlijn Spenkelink

The obvious elephant in the room was diversity. The vast majority of participants were white, middle-aged men. This isn’t at all surprising – the event is marketed as being challenging in nature and that narrows the range of riders interested in taking part. The headline price is also expensive (albeit you get incredible value for money) and this reduces the pool to riders old enough to have a decent disposable income. 

There were some exceptions to this of course – there were around twenty female entrants, who varied from relative novice to elite-level ultra-distance rider Nathalie Baillon. There was the South African father-and-son duo of Thomas and Oliver Otter. And then there was Arman, Chirag, Yeshwanth. They stood out somewhat from the other riders and not just for the obvious reason of ethnicity.

“Chirag’s shoes hadn’t dried enough for him to be able to wear without getting trench foot”

I first rode with Chirag on Stage 2. As I pulled alongside him and started to chat, I couldn’t help but notice that he had a pair of black sports shoes hanging off his handlebar extensions. A pair of shoes isn’t a typical gravel riding accoutrement, so this was an excellent conversation starter. It turned out that Chirag’s shoes had got soaked in the monsoon rain that we encountered at lunchtime on Stage 1 and hadn’t dried enough for him to be able to wear without getting trench foot. He decided that air drying was the best policy, so he hung his shoes from his handlebars and was riding in sandals instead. 

Chirag and his friends Arman and Yeshwanth were all PhD students (either currently studying or recently qualified). Their enthusiasm, passion and dedication was inspirational and despite their experience and fitness levels being closer to aspirational rather than actual, they valiantly took part every day and soon became firm favourites among the other riders. At the end of a tough Stage 2, Arman arrived into camp a good two hours behind the other riders and received a standing ovation and a monster round of applause from the other participants as we ate our dinner together. Chirag’s dogged determination that he wanted to get into gravel riding had been fuelled by years of internet research and he had a far deeper knowledge of the sport (albeit on a mainly theoretical basis) than the vast majority of the other riders. Hopefully the practical experience and knowledge they gleaned from attending the event will inspire them to continue on their gravelly journey of discovery.

“Pieter’s battle with the at times greasy conditions had been slightly more one-sided than he would have liked.” 

“When I turned 50, I wanted to do something special to celebrate, so I signed up for The Ride Gravel. Unfortunately, I then got Covid19 and now have long covid symptoms which is why I’m using an e-gravel bike. I persuaded my husband to sign up too. He’s a runner and has only been riding gravel for a couple of years, but he seems to be enjoying it.” I first chatted with Meike after she gracefully swopped past me going up quite a steep tarmac hairpinned climb. The weather was quite cool and damp at the time, but sunshine was just beginning to pierce the tree canopy and illuminate the road in front. 

As she rode past a beam of light silhouetted her perfectly against the darkness of the forest ahead, but I was too slow to spot the opportunity for a photo and by the time I had realised, it was too late and the light had gone. Later the same day I rode with Meike’s husband, without realising initially how they were related. Pieter had a slick of light brown mud up the left-hand side of his shorts and jersey, a sure sign that his battle with the at times greasy conditions had been slightly more one-sided than he would have liked. 

In a strange small-world coincidence, I first met Marin & Jeroen a couple of days before The Ride Gravel when we were all taking part in a gravel sportive in Valkenburg. I’d overtaken them during the event, but then punctured soon after and they stopped to offer assistance.  If there was an award for most stylish footwear-and-sock combo at the event, then Jeroen would have won. As a Dutchman living in California, he had taken inspiration from fellow Dutch rider Ivar Slik who had won the 2022 edition of Unbound using road pedals & shoes on his gravel bike. “I’m wearing road shoes in honour of Ivar. And also, because I really love these shoes and couldn’t justify buying a different pair for the event.”

“I really hated the first day. It wasn’t gravel riding”

Part of the role of being a journalist at an event is to ask slightly awkward questions and to make sure you get as wide a range of views of participants as possible. At the end of Stage 3, I joined a small group of riders that I hadn’t previously chatted to on their table at dinner and the topic of conversation turned to the variety of trails that we had encountered so far. “I really hated the first day. It wasn’t gravel riding, it was mountain biking and if I wanted to ride that type of trail then I would have signed up for an MTB event instead. I live in the north of Holland where we have proper gravel riding routes and Day 1 was not proper gravel.” The emotion in the rider’s voice and tense body language was clearly visible and it made me realise what a difficult line the event route planner Gijs had to tread to try and keep everyone happy. 

As a mountain biker I absolutely loved Stage 1 and relished the chance to put my body and bike through their paces on some of the more challenging sections of the parcours. But it was very obvious that not everyone shared my love of techy riding and some had found some bits of Stage 1 a step too far. With my diplomatic skills cranked up to 11, I tried to diffuse the tension in the air and the visibly unhappy rider soon relaxed and admitted that the trail mix contained in Stages 2 and 3 had been much more to his liking. 

Images courtesy of Merlijn Spenkelink

“The riding in the event is incredibly varied and is the perfect terrain for a gravel bike which can do it all”

In the opposite camp in terms of trail appreciation was Helen, a dedicated mountain biker who left streams of other riders in her wake every time the trail surface turned rocky or headed downhill. She positively beamed with happiness at the bottom of each descent and obviously relished the challenges that the trail threw at us. She had only been gravel riding since October 2021, having crossed-over from the MTB-world and bought a bike heavily inspired by her off-road riding background “This bike is both quick and fun on the descents and technical climbs, with wide handlebars, a dropper post and big volume tyres. The riding in the event is incredibly varied with everything from asphalt sections to get you from A to B, gravel roads, farm tracks and some rocky climbs and descents. It’s the perfect terrain for a gravel bike which can do it all”.

“We formed a small grupetto and slowly ratcheted up the pace until we were doing nearly 40kph. “

“I’m definitely more of a sprinter, than a climber” said Peter as we congratulated each other just after we crossed the finish line on Stage 4, a 160kms/3000m monster of a day. I’d ridden with Peter and his ride buddy Patriek for the last 30kms of the stage and we were all pretty cooked by that point. Route master Gijs had put a sting in the tail for the select group of slightly deranged riders who had opted to ride the XL version of the day’s route. We passed a sign saying Hellenthal (our overnight destination) 8kms, but our route then deviated away from the standard one and took us back into the hills for some extra climbing, before we re-joined it for the screamingly fast descent to the finish line. Peter, Patriek and I formed a small grupetto and slowly ratcheted up the pace until we were doing nearly 40kph. 

“Post-finish fist bumps and some instant and deeply felt camaraderie were the order of most days.”

I’d glanced at the route profile just before this and knew there was a small section of undulations just before the finish line and thought we would collectively ease off the pace to cross the line together. Peter was having none of this though and showed us a clean pair of heals over the final section to the line. I’d ridden with him and Patriek on and off over the course of the preceding couple of days, including one somewhat foolhardy dash for the line at the end of Stage 2, where another little grupetto had set a blistering pace on the final flat 20kms to the overnight campsite. While the event is not timed and there was nothing but a sense of personal satisfaction (and some tired legs) to show for finishing slightly quicker than anyone else, that didn’t stop some friendly rivalry from developing throughout the different stages. Post-finish fist bumps and some instant and deeply felt camaraderie were the order of most days in fact. 

It was this sense of friendship, teamwork and shared achievement that I missed the most when I got home. It was quite amazing how rapidly our bodies (and souls) got used to a daily dose of exercise, endorphins and post-ride euphoria, not to mention the ability to inhale calories with no negative impact on our waistlines. 

“I’ve spent the ten days since I got home feeling bereft and I’m already figuring out a way of going back to ride at next year’s event.”

I’ve spent the ten days since I got home feeling bereft – where was my daily dose of stimulating cross-cultural conversation, the buzz from ‘cleaning’ a section of trail or pushing one gear harder than was strictly necessary up a climb? After many years of working and travelling with my bike as the tool to my trade, I thought I had become immune to post-ride blues, but The Ride Gravel has ensconced itself happily into my sub-conscious and I’m already figuring out a way of going back to ride at next year’s event.

The date has already been set for next year's edition of the event - it's going to run from September 10th to 14th and in five epic stages, participants will ride through France, Germany, Luxembourg, Belgium and the Netherlands. 

The event organisers have arranged a webinar, scheduled for Monday October 24 at 18.30 GMT/19.30 h CET where olly, gravel union's editor, will be joining event director Carlo van Nistelrooy to talk through the details and to answer any questions. You can join the webinar for free by signing up here.