The first time I heard about the WOW Cyclothon was from my brother Olivier, who had decided he was going to enter this challenging endurance race with his Airbus Team, which was very appropriately named ‘TF-MAD’.
All I knew about the small geological paradise of Iceland was the length of the runway at its major airport (Keyflavik) and the unpredictable weather associated with its location in the far northern hemisphere (64.1265 N, 21.8174W). I had only ever seen this isolated and sparsely populated place (330,000 people) through clouds from approximately 40,000 feet while flying over the Atlantic Ocean in an Airbus 380.
Once Olivier mentioned it, I became really keen to participate in the race but unfortunately, having missed the entry date, I would not be allowed to ride. Instead, I volunteered to drive the Class C RV that would be the support vehicle for the four avid cyclists that were all part of my brother’s team.
If you are unfamiliar with this race, it is roughly 1,500km around the island of Iceland, crossing a multitude of terrains from well paved roads to mountain trails (more about that later) in very unpredictable weather. In Iceland, 15 degrees celsius is considered a heat wave! Armed with little more information than the above, I flew to Copenhagen with Emirates and connected with Iceland Air to Keyflavik, arriving a few days early to give me ample time to assess my surroundings. Once comfortably settled into my hotel, the Eyja Guldsmeden, I set out to walk around the city center and figure out how I was going to spend the next three days before the race.
Reykjavik surprised me and felt like a mixture of eastern Germany, New Zealand and western Europe all in one. I did not expect the graffiti all over the place or the rows of very square, stern looking grey houses in some parts of the city (hence the reference to eastern Germany). In three days I went from whale watching to waterfall hunting to cave exploring in a variety of weather, ranging from 6 degrees centigrade and 30km an hour winds to nearly 19 degrees with full blue skies. You have to use group tours to get around if you do not book well in advance, and being a solo traveler I was not immediately sold on the idea. I soon warmed up to it however, as the company I had chosen (Your Day Tours) turned out to be very punctual, professional and informative, using buses small enough to promote friendships and interesting conversations during the tours.
After doing my own thing for a few days I was really eager to start the race and get more details about the logistics involved. I met up with my brother and his team and suddenly the whole thing came to life. Already we were RACING! Racing to pick up the bicycles and have them fitted. Racing to hire the camper that would be our home for however long it would take us to complete the race. Racing to stock up on food and racing to meetings for all of the last minute details. It was a whirlwind of events with the excitement and the anticipation high. On the day of the race, being French, we decided to have a good meal before the start, so off we went to the charming Lakjarbrekka restaurant for a delicious meal amply complemented by Icelandic beverages.
One hour before the pistol shot, we were racing to the departure point, only to be met by the other Airbus Team of ten. Finding it quite strange that we were now only 20 minutes before the official start and that there were only two teams in the parking lot, we called the organiser only to realise that we had been given the wrong GPS coordinates! We quickly repacked the bicycles into the RV and rushed to the departure line. Arriving with five minutes to spare, my brother ran to the start line with his bike on the side, only to be paired against George Hincapie, a ‘retired’ professional biker. Needless to say, he moved up his game to keep the pace and later told me he nearly saw his meal again, so great was the effort he put in to keep pace with George…
In a blur, the GO signal was given and off they went. After those months of arduous training in the Gers, ordering their team jerseys and printing logos, attending meetings, and developing nutrition plans; after so much anticipation…they were IN and they were RIDING!!! As for myself, I was following them in the RV on small winding roads along the coast, feeling extremely proud of the team and enjoying the scenery.
With 24 hours of constant daylight it was challenging to our internal biological clocks. After one hour, as planned, my brother turned in to rest in the RV and Alexa took her turn on the bike. With that of course, as any epic story would have it, we encountered our first hardship. She had problems with her gears and could not find the sweet spot on her bike, so had to shorten her shift on the bike to 30 minutes instead of the one hour planned. Daniel, a veteran long distance runner and cyclist, jumped on his bike and started his hour. After that it was Jerome’s turn and on and on it went for 51 hours straight.
We initially had planned to have a bicycle rack on the RV, which would have helped a lot with the relays, but it was no longer available when we picked up the vehicle. We mitigated the situation and got rid of one bed in the camper to fit three of the bicycles, storing the other in the corridor. We were slow at first to rotate the bicycles according to the order of cyclists but got better as we went along and by the end of the race were so much faster at it.
Excitement was high but so was fatigue as the sleeping shifts were getting shorter and shorter. Personal space was at a minimum with 6 people in approximately 8 square meters of space. Cycling bibs were proudly “drying” from the ceiling, exhausted people were scattered on small benches or berths, food was drying in the sink (pasta was the main meal on board) and yet again and again the miles were rolling by. From flat green plains to hilly rocky places, from beaches to mountains, dry to wet weather, summery to wintery scenery, cascades, glaciers… the kilometers kept on turning. I had another driver with me and we settled for 4 hours shifts to keep alert on the road and make sure we were always supporting and encouraging our cyclists.
Then came the famous north eastern part of the race, the one for which we were told we NEEDED mountain bikes. Unfortunately, we did not have the space for them, so with true French flair and fashion, my brother Olivier, a very experienced mountain biker, attacked the mountain on his road bike. Climbing on gravel roads, descending vertiginous slopes along fjords resembling Norway, with the sun his only companion as he pedaled like mad, his music giving the cadence for high RPMs, he kept the pace despite the wind, the RV being never far behind ‘just in case’. On the way, Christophe (the other driver) and myself would rush to camp grounds to quickly wash the dishes, cook a new batch of pasta and of course share the dreaded duty of cleaning the toilet reservoir, sometimes fighting relentless flies. We had to be fast as the riders were getting more and more tired as the kilometers rolled by and the hours seemed to stretch longer and longer due to fatigue. Here we were at kilometer 675 battling wintry weather and brutal rain showers, knowing that we were only half way. Jerome was regretting his earlier comment of “I am tired of organising, I want to go on the bike and ride,” as he was pulling on his wet clothes to get back on the bike in the pelting rain. All of us were laughing from exhaustion, trying to figure out how we were doing compared to the other teams, passing them on the way, then being overridden again, eating, sleeping in shifts and with only one goal and vision… The FINISH line.
As we were going around the south eastern part of the race, we became head to head with another team of ten female cyclists from Iceland. They were much more organised than we were, with three support vehicles, trailers, and obviously fresher legs having split the distance between ten riders instead of the four in our team. It was time for a new burst of energy with healthy competition between their team and ours. Olivier passed them, switched the relay to Alexa and then it was up to Daniel who unfortunately took the wrong turn and was passed by the other team, meaning he had to double his efforts and pass them again in the steep climb.
With only 80km to ride, Jerome and Olivier cycled together to mentally and physically support one another, and then it was the Grand Finale with our four cyclists passing the arrival line all together. It was an incredibly proud moment to have come from Canada, France and Dubai as a team and complete this magical race in challenging conditions. We were ecstatic to have set this goal and accomplish it after months of preparation. We finished late in the evening and after being showered by bubbly on the podium, we celebrated with real showers at the campground and pizza, as it was the only place still open so late. After the first ‘real meal’ in two and a half days, it was time for a very lovely night with the six of us sleeping at the same time, bunked up and cozy, being rocked to sleep by a fierce wind in the harbour where we parked and lullabied by Christophe and his incredibly loud snoring!
The next morning was a ‘day off’, giving us the opportunity to explore the natural hot water pools, unfortunately in dreadful weather. We actually had to turn back with the camper as the wind was so strong that we were concerned about being turned over, which the rental company had previously warned us about.
In the evening we celebrated in style, dancing the night away on very tired legs and smiling to the moon and back. All in all, it motivated me to become a cyclist and upon my return I immediately bought a bike. Being an avid hiker and trekker, I am planning to build up my cycling legs quickly and do it again next year. But this time… on the bike! Stay tuned for further adventures!
Words + Photos By: Anne-Elizabeth Cecillon
