Day #3 How I became pastafarian

Článek je k dispozici i v češtině 🇨🇿.

You know that feeling of waking up at 1:00 a.m. wanting to ride your bike? No? Then I guess I'm alone. My eyes lit up long before the alarm and I felt like I wasn't going to fall back asleep. I cut it off before it could cream waking melody and stumbled out of my cocoon. I picked up my gear and at exactly 1:35 I started the activity on my Garmin. I was in for a long climb to 2,000 metres.

Even though the hill was steep and the surface wasn't the smoothest, I stayed in the saddle with a cadence of around 70 rpm and in the lightest gear, I clawed my way up. I was surprised myself when after two hours I saw I had ridden 10 kilometres and 900 vertical metres.

The temperature at the top was slightly above freezing. I took off my jacket a little while after I got up. I didn't want to sweat unnecessarily and thanks to the absence of wind I was able to warm up by riding. It was only just before the summit that I put my jacket back on, along with my winter gloves. The descent will be tough.

🦗 My secret weapon

The cold wasn't my worst enemy - unless it was the one that fried my cognitive system. Why didn't my body want to sleep when I was still wrapped up in my sleeping bag? Now my mind was trying to interrupt my consciousness right at the downhill. I felt like kamikaze. I fought it with all my strenght because I didn't want to take a power nap in this cold.

I drove through a town where three racers were sleeping. I had to bother them so much. As unbelievable as it may seem, I couldn't find my way around the tangle of alleys and had absolutely no idea, which way the race route went. I went around in circles and if you know me, you know how loud my rear hub is. It's my secret weapon for waking people up!

After a short road section, the descent continued on the singletrack. I enjoyed it at first, but after a few switchbacks the difficulty increased massively and I was doomed to the worst kind of pushing - downhill. I lost 20 minutes against the others in two kilometres This is really bad.

Just before CP2, I restocked in the town of Pramanta. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find food on the route. There wasn't much along the trail and even what there was doesn't look like a wide selection of goods. The shop the I was in was rather smaller, but I did my best to resupply.

⛰️ This is why I'm here

I arrived at CP2 in a slightly better mood than at CP1, even though I knew this day wasn't going to be easy. The sunny weather was inevitable and I was going to complain about the heat. I had the spaghetti again - it was delicious. The local guardian tried to beg for a few strings with his dog eyes He failed and went to bark at incoming racers. I needed every calorie that was within reach of my tongue. I did a brief cleaning of the bike as I wasn't expecting any more mud baths.

The very first climb was tough but epic. Wider road, switchbacks, mountain views, just beautiful. I was pushing in some sections, but I wasn't complaining at all. It wasn't until the way down that I cursed. It was rideable, but it was kind of slow because I was dodging bigger rocks.

Overall, the descent into the valley was very gradual and I was running out of energy. It was not going well. In the later passages, I was so angry that I was even going through sections that I would normally push because I didn't want to waste any more time. I was taking the worst possible line and I didn't care. Oddly enough, it was working.

🔊 It's broken

On the downhill, weird sound was getting louder and louder in my bike. Whenever I'm alone and riding for a long time, these noises drive me crazy. My mind is scrambling to figure out if I should deal with it or if it's just some bag scrubbing. And most importantly, will it last? Is the bike going to disassemble under my ass? The sound got so bad that I stopped and checked it out. My headset was moving and not in a good way.

I noticed the sound the first day, but thought it was coming from the bag hitting the frame. Then I thought it was probably the saddle or seatpost, but I believed it was nothing and therefore paid no attention to it. Only now the fork has joined the group. I was pretty scared of it at first, because I wasn't sure if simply tightening it up would fix it. Fortunately, it was enough. I didn't tighten it with the prescribed moments, but it will hold. It'll be fine.

The next thing I did was more or less survive by looking forward to the next shop, which I could see on the map, but there wasn't one in reality. In the evening I arrived at the last possible place - the restaurant behind the bridge. What could I order other than spaghetti - they offered nothing else. The lady asked me if I wanted cheese with it. I nodded. I got the spaghetti and cheese. After I ate half of it, she brought a ketchup. Either way, it was delicious.

🚜 Modesty above all

I bought a sandwich to go - it was rather plainy - a few Coca-Cola cans and chips. I had about 170 kilometres to go to CP3, so I wasn't sure I'd sufficiently stocked up. I hoped I could still get something.

As I crossed into the second valley, I was very surprised by the construction of the very wide road. I didn't understand why they were building such a thing here, in the forgotten mountains. Is it for us racers? To go faster? I guess they're hoping the road will bring more people here. I'm just not sure if the right ones...

I kept climbing until I came across a stream with a bench. I'd already taken one power nap up this hill and urgently needed to sleep. This was the perfect opportunity, so I took advantage of the bench. I didn't even inflate the mattress. In fact, I didn't even have to bring it. I ordered an alarm clock for two hours and indulged in the blissful feeling of sleep.

163km

Distance

5,787m

Elevation

17:56

Duration

Strava activity

July 8, 2025 | #Bikepacking

Hellenic Mountain Race 2025

• Day #1 and #2 How I became a bad person
• Day #3 How I became pastafarian

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