Crosshill CF

Lanzarote: adjustment time

The bugle sounds in the early morning. It's nearly time for Romain, Jiri and Mathieu to leave. Armed with their steeds – the new carbon gravel bike by Lapierre – they fine-tune their equipment and their bodies: apprehension reigns, but it's not long until the battle begins. Already at 8:00am, they are navigating the first paths on an island mainly known for triathlon events. The popularity of this sport soon becomes clear as they travel, with the speed of the three gravel bikes contrasting with the aerodynamics of the many triathletes they pass. But the three men keep moving. At their pace. On a bike that they get to know over the miles.

Things aren't yet 100% perfect: the shims still need adjusting and the saddle setback needs to be regulated, but initial sensations promise a great adventure. Just like the first landscapes that amaze and fascinate: lunar, mystical, exhausting due to the omnipresent wind that weakens the legs and already threatens to break morale. Breaks are necessary, especially in the maze of volcanoes in Timanfaya National Park. These moments are ideal for taking photos, and the landscapes offer comfort. "We're riding on Mars! ", exclaims Mathieu. But there's nothing extraterrestrial about this stage: it's more of an "appetiser" (albeit a serious one) with its 104 km of geological wonders, sought-after surf spots and circular vineyards. Devoured in 6h25 of effort, buzzing from the exhilaration of a successful start, the trio are on their way to Fuerteventura!

Fuerteventura: the call of the siren

Things start to get serious on this arid island with its scarce but spirited fauna. The day's menu promises to be copious, with 150 km to travel under the scorching sun and nearly 2,500 metres of elevation gain. Lulled by the sounds of the waves for the first few kilometres, sedated by the whirling wisps of sand and the comforting blanket of the sun, the wake-up call at the halfway point is brutal.  Over-optimistic, too slow, however you look at it the calculations at the start of the afternoon are bleak:  four hours until the last ferry, and 90 km still to go... There's a wind of panic in the air, and indeed the wind is blowing almost head-on at over 90 kph without respite, putting all hope to bed.  Romain's legs are groggy. Mathieu is tiring due to making up for his technical shortcomings. Jiri is battling through and remaining hopeful. 

Three hours to ride 58 km: calm is restored, but they're not out of the woods yet. There's a long stretch ahead that's as steep as it is technical. Arid, unforgiving and like a rocky goat track, it forces the athletes to walk. The timer states the hard facts: One hour of effort for just eight kilometres. Even for experienced athletes, the gravel tracks impose humility. There are just two hours left to cover 50 kilometres, which although less technical are aggravated by the hostile wind and heat. The three of them have to pull together... And with less than five minutes to go, after a race against the clock, they arrive at the dock, exhausted, thirsty, but victorious. The most difficult part is still to come, however: on a pitching ferry in the middle of the ocean, the heavy swell scrambles their stomachs. Already tired, their bodies can't resist and seasickness results in Romain, Mathieu and Jiri losing precious energy that they will desperately need in Gran Canaria.

Gran Canaria: a dance with hostility

Avoid yesterday's mistakes. Set off early. Aim accurately. And only take small breaks to eat. The main island in the Canaries is in front of Roman, Mathieu and Jiri. Gran Canaria. Wild, compact and merciless. The 142 km promise to be spectacular. They all have 6:00pm in mind, the time of the last ferry and their last chance to get closer to their goal. But first, they have to face the damp dawn that is paralysing limbs still tense from a short night. They are on the saddle at 5:00am, knowing that the altitude regularly exceeds 2,000 metres. At these heights, there is no room for error!

Until the halfway point, the six legs tired legs respond well.  The pace is good, along with morale, when the Atlantic sun breaks through these majestic canyons once again. Everything is going to plan. Everything... until Romain hits a rock at high speed. Result: a burst tyre, Jiri some distance away and an emergency repair. A good hour is lost and the slow puncture seems impossible to fix. The deep tear in the tyre lets air escape. At the harbour, ready to embark, the team holds its breath while waiting for the verdict: ferry to Tenerife missed by 10 minutes. But providence sometimes lends an ear to the unfortunate. A local cycling enthusiast offers a generous helping hand to repair the tyre properly, while a final crossing is announced for 8:00pm. The night on Tenerife will be short, but sweet!  

Tenerife: noises in the night

It's often said that darkness brings out the best in people. Gravel definitely amplifies the phenomenon. Leaving exhausted in the middle of the night for an unknown summit definitely strengthens character and builds friendships. En route for the volcano, Romain, Jiri and Mathieu combine their strength to defy the darkness where every mistake costs a fall. They have to fight to remain lucid, to fend off the fatigue of their battered bodies. They also have to challenge the limits of the mind. Hallucinations threaten to take over. Jiri sinks into torpor, Romain regularly loses his balance. Mathieu fights with an arm that is increasingly painful. But in this hostile atmosphere, the "gravel mindset" makes sense: in the cold, in the rain, in the night, suffering offers a passage to fulfilment.

This stage takes in the Teide, a monument among monuments towering above the clouds at a height of 3,715 m. It's the giant stage. Giant due to the total effort it requires, giant due to its staggering slopes, giant above all due to its breathtaking landscapes created from millennia of geological expression.  Next to it, humans pale into insignificance: 155 km, 4,000 m of elevation gain and nearly ten hours on the saddle. Despite narrow passages where the Crosshill CF bikes have to be carried, a derailleur battery failure and another puncture, the trio reach the ferry in time. The final stage is in sight, with the wonderful images of Tenerife still fresh in their minds. 

El Hierro: hear the passion

Do not underestimate El Hierro. From afar, the first visual contact with the island is strange, almost frightening. A storm is rumbling on the coast and the harbour, set into the cliff face, looks like the end of the world.  On paper, this little-known island in the archipelago is destined to remain so: just over 11,000 inhabitants, deserted roads and few tourists aside from the most daring – the cyclists who tackle the Gran Guanche.  The diversity of its landscapes are soon apparent, changing between South American jungle, Scottish meadows, volcanic valley and arid peak. One island, multiple journeys: El Hierro is impressive in that way. But it's difficult too. With over 4,000 m of elevation gain in just 124 km, and with bodies that are already spent, it has by far the most favourable elevation gain/km ratio. Or unfavourable, depending how you look at it.