The Nomadian Rhapsobike is, as its name suggests, a cycling adventure with a new itinerary every year. In 2024, the route starts near the Chateau de Chambord and heads for the Isle of Skye in the Scottish Highlands.
As the deadline approaches, I’m fairly serene, my only fear being the weather. I feel like I’m missing a lot of equipment. New 20,000mm rain jacket, waterproof sleeping bag, etc…. It’s a bit expensive, but it should help me avoid prohibitively expensive hotel nights. I also take a second GPS, a watch that can be used as an alarm clock “just in case”, waterproof socks and rainproof gloves.
Another special feature is the ferries: there are between 2 and… 7 crossings! The 5 optional boats will save you a hefty hundred kilometers … but only if you arrive in the time slots in which they operate.
Day 1 – Fictitious departure and disembarkation
August 14, 2024 – 00:01 a.m.
KM0 – 54 of us set off. For some mysterious reason, there are far fewer people than on the Desertus Bikus.
The first 260 kilometers are neutralized, as almost all of us have to board the 2 p.m. vessel at Caen-Ouistreham. The 4 of us ride from Beauce to Normandy, arriving at the port at 11 a.m. with enough time for a generous refreshment and picnic on the beach. Tiredness is already visible on our faces. The 6-hour crossing will allow us to be reborn through sleep; before tackling a second sleepless night, this time in the darkness of perfidious Albion.
KM262 – I’m among the last to leave immigration control. I start off slowly, trying to keep to the left-hand side of the road to respect the customs in force.
On the first bump, I’m in the path of fifteen or so other nomads. I’m not sure what’s got into me, but I accelerate and catch up with them one by one. I keep up the power for about an hour and a half, and a small gap opens up.
Day 2 – Downpour in Wales
KM433 – From port to CP1: 172km without a break, I arrive first, at 3am an hour ahead of Rodrigue. The first gate is closed, then a second. I find the mechanism and take the tracker in my hand to reach the indicated point: the Broadway tower, a dungeon surrounded by the dozens of reflecting eyes of a herd of deer.
Being at the head of the race is pretty euphoric, but once past the checkpoint the energy drops off and I’m a bit stunned. I decide to continue towards Wales, without a break, so as not to catch a cold. This sleepless night seems endless, and I’m getting very slow.
KM493 – Around 7 a.m. I finally sleep for 10 minutes in a bus shelter. Rodrigue isn’t far behind, but I manage to pick up a few kilometers along the River Wye as he cuts through the hills. Happy with the result, I allow myself another 20min nap at the foot of compulsory course no. 1, on the platform of Llanwrtyd Wells station (don’t ask me how it’s pronounced).
KM595 – Obstacle at the start of the route: there’s construction work going on and a worker confirms that I can’t go through. I have to follow the detour, and Rodrigue appears, arriving in the opposite direction. Together, we take the detour. We’re delighted by the scenery of the nature reserve, but there’s one wall after another at 25%. The rain invites itself and then breaks. This is the first correction in a long series to come.
KM633 – Once off the course, we stop at a convenience store, but the rain doesn’t stop. We’re catching a chill, and it’s worrying for what’s to come. I notice that my phone has been drowned in a pocket of my waterproof jacket and won’t turn back on. Around 3.30pm the deluge ends and as soon as we leave the village our routes separate… only to meet again unexpectedly 2 hours later. I fight off sleep as I interview my companion of the day about his many ultra adventures. The end of the day approaches, the rain has taken its toll on us, and fatigue is beginning to take its toll.
KM718 – Ploughing through Booking.com, Rodrigue finds a room with bunk beds at a campsite for “only” £70. 450km after the ferry, this shelter gives us 5 hours’ sleep, a hot shower and a heater metamorphosed into a tumble dryer. Forget the rankings and get some sleep. On the other hand, my phone will never turn back on.
Day 3 – Thursday night fever
Setting off just before sunrise, I learn that Yoann has taken advantage of our dozing off to go ahead. Rodrigue soon suffers a very sore knee, which separates us.
KM755 – I meet Yoann, looking like a Viking warrior, at the foot of the second checkpoint, a dam perched among the sheep. He slept 3 hours in the bivouac. Once back down I meet Léo, third, then Rodrigue who, alas, is suffering to the point of considering giving up.
It’s a sunny day and I’m feeling good physically and in high spirits. While I’m riding, I’m thinking about a strategy for finding a new phone, as there are still over 1300km to go.
KM812 – I reach CP3, passing Yoann again at the bottom of the descent. Now there are two options: take a ferry through Liverpool or ride another 15km around the city? Contrary to my initial plan, I decide to go through Liverpool in search of an operational smartphone.
KM903 – The access to Bikenhead, the town from which the ferry leaves for Liverpool, I discover a maritime terminal under construction and messages announcing that the company is operating from another quay. Problem: I have no idea where this might be and I don’t have access to Google Maps. Luckily I meet a couple on fast scooters who guide me 4km and I arrive 20min before the departure of the next ferry. When I buy the ticket I learn that in the middle of the day the crossing takes 30min instead of 5min at office hours. I make the most of this time by taking a nap.
KM905 – I leave Liverpool with a new smartphone for £120, 2-3 apps to communicate and MadCap to see where the competitors are. The traffic is hellish for a few kilometers, then I’m back on pleasant back roads.
KM954 – The afternoon is sunny but I start to feel cold, I stop to cover myself 2 times in a row but I’m still cold. My neck is stiff and so are my muscles. I take a 10-minute break to sleep, but it doesn’t help. I stop in a store to eat, but it still doesn’t help. My morale plummets, I feel physically weak and start crying, first out of disappointment. Then the tears don’t stop, I’m riding at 15km/h and torrents of negative thoughts overwhelm me: “What am I doing here?”, “Why am I doing all this?”, “I’m motivated by my ego”, “Deep down I just want to ride my bike quietly with friends”, “Why am I wasting my life like this?
KM959 – I find myself on a bench looking for a hotel, close to the station where I can already see myself getting back on the train, DNF! I finally listen to a voice inside me that doesn’t want to be locked up in the comfort of a hotel. I’ve still been sobbing for an hour until I realize “you’ve let yourself get carried away by emotions!” the tears stop instantly and I repeat to myself several times “you’ve let yourself get carried away!” shocked by the power of the mental spiral I’d lost myself in!
I get back on my bike and rediscover the route I’d mapped out and find my bearings again. As soon as I set off again, I bumped into Rodrigue – what a synchronicity! His knee pain has completely disappeared. A hundred metres ahead, I make out Léo. I tell them about my wandering moment, but physically it’s not much better, my muscles are stiff and the cold sensation persists.
KM990 – I succumb to fever an hour later south of Lancaster, where I decide to go to sleep. The search for a bivouac is disappointing. I end up in a fenced-in meadow, discreetly lit by city lights. I take out my bivouac gear and put on all the clothes that will keep me warm. And the heat does me good. The moon seems to be telling me that it’s not my fault, my body has decided so, the stars have decided so, I call my girlfriend, tell her, it feels good, everything’s fine. I sleep.
Day 4 – Nothing left to lose
I wake up at dawn after a long night, feeling that the fever has broken. I need to tell the public what has just happened to me, so I do so on Instagram. Very quickly I receive lots of encouraging messages and testimonials from friends who have been through similar difficulties. It makes me want to try again, and gives me hope that I can. Jules gives me a spontaneous video call, telling me about his experience in England and all the things I’m going to discover in Scotland.
I’m back in action around 7 a.m. after re-downloading Spotify and my playlist with 10 hours of Drum&Bass. Miracle, the body works very well, I have strength, there are bright spots. I have nothing left to lose. The pressure of the ranking is gone. I’m approaching the second compulsory course in the Lake District. There are two variants, “2A” and “2B”. So far, everyone’s signed up for “2B” because it’s less demanding.
KM1057 – The thirst for adventure that my friends have rekindled pushes me to take the as yet unexplored “2A” route. It’s a beautiful trail, and I’m having fun on the singles. There are, however, 1.5km on a lakeside trail that were impassable and not really necessary. I discover Honister pass then a second pass of the same calibre, these valleys are magnificent.
KM1174 – As I approach the sea, the wind becomes very favorable and I arrive at sunset in 10th position at checkpoint n°4. Looking for drinking water in the town of Silloth, I see 3 bikes in front of a bar. I find Daniel, Flavien and Gwennael eating burgers during a karaoke night, but for me the refito will be at the supermarket, no time to lose.
I decide to play with the wind by riding at night: the wind is unfavorable as we reach Scotland, but it should drop during the night. I’m not tired after the big night of recuperation I had the night before, so I’ll try to get as close as possible to checkpoint N°5 before 8am the next day, when the wind should gradually pick up. As soon as I arrive in Scotland, the bar-karaoke peloton catches up with me and we’re off on a big empty road. We split up around 2am in Dumfries when they went to sleep at a drunk golfer’s house.
Day 5 – Lowlands to Highlands
KM1396 – I only take an hour and a half break in front of a churchyard gate. I set off at 5 a.m. to arrive at CP5, Mull of Galloway, at 10.30 a.m. in 4th position. This lighthouse marks the southernmost tip of Scotland. With a little curiosity and fewer clouds, I could have seen the Isle of Man to the south and Ireland to the west. On the way I bumped into Léo, who was as surprised as I was at my lightning comeback. This day is rich in sunshine and favourable for bornering.
The wind supports my inertia towards the north. The next objective, 189km away, is a ferry that cannot (reasonably) be bypassed. A short pass that marks the entrance to the Highlands region. I’ve been told that the last boat is at 10 p.m., which isn’t true – there are boats until midnight from a second pier, but when in doubt, this false information pushes me to arrive before dark.
KM1584 – The twilight crossing is soothing, after hours of effort I’m rocked in the mighty boat. Once on the other side I need a rest, so I lie down in the first quiet shelter I find.
Day 6 – The cursed GPS
KM1588 – 02:30, I visit the 3rd compulsory night course, which is a pity for the view, but it’s strategic as I’ll be able to take the shortcut via the Isle of Mull: first a ferry, 31km by bike, then a second ferry to save 25km and 800m of ascent compared with the road bypass. Around 9 a.m., the rain became heavy and the heavy showers didn’t stop until the finish!
KM1767 – After the second crossing, I hear my name being shouted. I retrace my steps and see the 3 leaders: Léo, Yoann and Rodrigue. Something unlikely is happening to them: their GPS stopped working almost simultaneously. I joke “ah! so I’ve won?!”, which seems to make them laugh. They waste a lot of time trying to get the devices to work again, which will be crucial as the finish approaches. I offer them my emergency GPS, but they refuse out of fair play. We disperse: I head for CP6, which they’ve already validated, and they head for a hotel where they’ll arrive just before closing time. The road is sumptuous but the weather is confusing. I have to get to the next ferry before the last traffic closes at 9.30pm.
KM1859 – I’m on the other side of Loch Linnhe by 9pm and stop under a bus shelter to escape the rain. I’m having a terrible time deciding what to do next – I need to dry off a bit, but I also need to buy food for the next day. I see that my mother (who is anxious for me to sleep outside) has sent me the address of a £40 hostel, which I book immediately. Looking at the road I realize that it’s actually on the edge of the famous Loch Ness and involves a 60km detour, so I cancel immediately. After wasting the £40 I decide to stop looking for a hotel. It’s past 9.30pm and it’s now too late to go to the nearest supermarkets, which close at 10pm.
I lie down before being quickly disturbed. A delivery boy brings a cart full of burger buns and various pastries. He sets it down right next to me, unaware of my lack of food. It must surely go to the pub on the other bank with the first ferry of the morning. After much hesitation I won’t touch it, but it reassures me that I’m not going to starve. A few minutes later I discover that there are petrol stations open 24 hours a day on my way (and the store is also open at night!).
Off we go! Perhaps this hotel setback is an opportunity to regain first place? Perhaps I’m getting a bit carried away: after just a few kilometers in the pouring rain, I’m getting the urge to sleep.
KM1873 – I find a very poor bivouac in Fort Williams: a bus shelter in town, with no benches and insufficient protection from the rain, where I sleep on the ground. My clothes are soaked and I feel miserable. How did I get myself into this situation? My only hope of keeping out the cold is a survival blanket…and it works!
Day 7 – The perfidious attack!
I have slept relatively well. As I set off, I keep the survival blanket under my jacket to cope with the rain combined with the cool night air and head for the 24/7 petrol station at 2.30am to buy some food. I sacrifice £23 in exchange for the last two vegetarian sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, 400g of Cadbury chocolate, a bag of skittles, cashews, peanuts and Oreos. At 3 a.m. I launch a treacherous attack in which I surprise the leading trio and arrive in first position at CP7.
KM1945 – It’s a secluded lake, the dawn is calm and I’m happy to be here, contemplating Scottish nature. The finish is just around the corner. To reach the last CP on the Isle of Skye, there are two options: 135km of tarmac road over the bridge, and the much less rolling 81km “expedition” option: hike-a-bike, gravel and a short ferry. My curiosity led me to opt for the off-road adventure, regardless of the rankings. I imagine that the chasers will surely take the road option to overtake me.
KM1955 – After a road that winds its way down to sea level, I set off on a track, passing a first gate that reads “public path to [somewhere], follow the trail”: this is rather reassuring. It was marked on Komoot that this is a hiking section and that you shouldn’t expect to climb this section by bike. Indeed, there are stony slopes of over 30%. Once at the top, 250m above sea level, I expected to find some passable paths, as the gradient profile seemed progressive on this side. It’s much more complicated than expected: the path turns out to be totally soggy and full of little traps. The wheel sinks into the puddles, which I’m the first to explore. I have 30mm road tires inflated to 5bars and the terrain is destabilizing, alternating loose earth and slippery pebbles. I spend most of the time walking.
KM1959 – I cross a number of small streams until I come to the first torrent, which is deeper. Still, there’s a trail visible at the bottom of the water. I pluck up courage and carry my bike high enough not to flood the panniers. The water is above my knees, so I get a bit of an adrenaline rush, but I’m okay! I tell myself that if I hadn’t won, I’d have felt the essence and rigor of Scottish nature.
KM1961 – A few minutes later I come to a second torrent. I don’t know how to tackle it, but having gained confidence in my ability to get over this obstacle, I go for it. This time it’s at least as deep, but I’m walking on large, slippery stones. As I reach the middle, the current is too strong, I slip and catch my bike in-extremis, then slip again several times, shouting “no!” with authority before reaching the bank in a gruelling struggle. Once on dry land, I realize that I was afraid for my life; I felt the force of the water surpass mine. I saw myself floating away. It could have been catastrophic. I don’t feel like playing any more, my only desire is to get back on the road as soon as possible, and I hope no one else comes along.
KM1966 – The path soon becomes clearer and the two remaining river crossings are on bridges marked “use at your own risks, strictly no horses”.
After a few stretches too steep to ride my dentist’s bike down, the track finally becomes rolling and I soon turn off onto a nice little coastal road with an unobstructed view of a secret bay.
KM1976 – As soon as my phone picks up, I take a minute to check where my rivals are. To my great surprise, they’ve taken the same route as me and the gap has remained the same since they left this morning, at around 45 minutes. Carried along by a strong southerly wind, I’m heading for the seventh and final ferry, the one that will take me to the Isle of Skye.
KM1990 – I disembark on the island at 12:30 p.m. The wind and showers are omnipresent, from 45km/h downwind to less than 15km/h headwind. The rain lashes the skin, you can’t see much, the elements are raging, but I stay focused on my goal, thinking I can be caught at any moment.
KM2032 – I reach the eighth and final checkpoint with a comfortable lead, as Rodrigue, Léo and Yoann have stopped to refuel. CP8 is conquered before 4pm, with the island of Rum in the background, drenched by dark clouds and a stormy sea devoid of any boats. I release the pressure for the last 60 kilometers, during which I watch the contrasts created by short bursts of sunshine and the darkness of incessant showers. The last three hours will pass very quickly (but after so many hours on the bike my perception of time was distorted). Arriving in the terminus town, Portree, absolutely every bed&breakfast and guesthouse indicated “no vacancies”: fully booked. Another problem loomed: it would be impossible to find a hotel, so I compromised on staying for the good atmosphere promised on arrival.
KM2098 – I’m welcomed in Portree as the first finisher after 6d and 20h, and offered the winner’s disguise: a green and blue kilt, matching my trusty Cervélo. I lift the bike with the last of my strength before seeking refuge in a restaurant. The 3 brave pursuers arrive 2 hours later, and we meet up and congratulate each other.
Humility, perseverance and magic
I’m aware that the finish came down to very few things, and in ultra racing there are so many parameters that can tip a race over the edge…
For me, it was a lesson in humility: even when you feel strong, it’s your body that decides whether you can go on or not. A lesson in perseverance: I came close to giving up when I still had the resources. I also keep in a corner of my mind the questions I had. And finally, it was a lesson in the magical power of encouragement. I wouldn’t have been able to get going again with enthusiasm without the support I received when I was at my lowest ebb. Thank you so much!
Congratulations and much respect to all the participants, it was a very tough event. Thanks to Sheriff Yvan and his team for organizing the event. Thanks to you, reader 🙂
Translated with DeepL.com