Day #9 How I ate the fateful borscht

A dirt road curves through a rocky mountain valley under a bright blue sky with scattered clouds. A large yellow sign with a downward arrow and text marks the route on the left; a triangular warning sign appears on the right. Barren, steep mountains and distant snow-capped peaks frame the path, typical of a remote bikepacking trail.

My alarm was set for about half past one in the morning, and I had no trouble waking up. The sleeping pad had held. I packed everything and continued on in the deep night. It was a wider road with larger rocks that wound along the hillsides and occasionally crossed a dry riverbed. Good thing they were dry… Meanwhile the wind had turned, so it was blowing against me, but it was just a light breeze and didn’t slow me down much.

As morning approached, the temperature dropped and I gradually layered up—down pants, shoe covers, balaclava, winter gloves, and even the Alpha Hoody came into play. Only my down jacket remained in my bags. My fingers on both hands and feet were cold, but it was bearable.

Sometime in the early morning I passed by Tomáš Hadámek’s tent, but I didn’t even realize it was him.

A person on a bikepacking trip wears a white helmet with a red and black headlamp, black face mask, white-framed glasses, black jacket, and red backpack with a hydration tube. They stand on a dirt road through an open grassy field, with distant mountains and a clear sky in the background.

Sunset over a vast, arid landscape during a bikepacking trip. The sun glows orange on the horizon, casting warm light across distant mountains. A small, winding stream with reflective pools cuts through dry, rocky terrain with sparse grass. The sky transitions from golden near the sun to soft pinkish-gray above.

A gravel bikepacking route stretches into the distance under a clear blue sky with scattered clouds. On the right, a tall metal watchtower with a green cabin overlooks the area, near small buildings and piles of dirt. Rolling hills and distant snow - capped mountains frame the horizon, with warm late - afternoon light illuminating the open, arid landscape.

🚣 My forgetfulness will kill me one day

The road led me to a wide river. It couldn’t have been more than a few degrees above zero, so I wasn’t exactly eager for a swim. I tried to find the best spot to get to the other side—if the water was only up to my knees, that would be ideal.

I left my bike on the bank, took off my shoes, pants, and calf and knee warmers, and bravely waded into the water. At first it looked good, but just before the far bank the bottom disappeared and suddenly I was waist-deep in water. I threw my stuff to the other side and headed back for my bike.

I waded barefoot so my shoes wouldn’t get wet, but that was a mistake. My feet immediately got so cold that I couldn’t feel them. I carried the bike on my back, but even so I couldn’t find my balance in the strong current. I almost fell into the water, but in the end I managed to carry everything, including myself, to the other bank. There I dried my feet with disposable wipes and got dressed again.

Later I found out that they had warned us about this ford at the race briefing, but I had somehow forgotten.

🕒 Suyak Pass for the second time

I climbed back up to the four-thousand-meter pass where I had been yesterday, and reached the Arabel Plateau. There I kept meeting more and more racers who were descending to complete the first loop that I had just finished.

I was tired, hungry, and longing to finally reach the last checkpoint. According to the map, it looked like a long descent down. At least something.

Before I got from Arabel Plateau to the descent, it took a while longer and of course a full-blown hurricane was blowing against me.

Then it really was an almost endless descent, but the wind was blowing just as hard, so it wasn’t exactly pleasant. Soon I had to admit to myself that the descent was too long and I even started falling asleep on it. And I had been sleeping more than enough throughout the race. Maybe this drowsiness is never caused by fatigue per se, but rather by boredom. Students in their classrooms could tell you all about it.

A large carved stone monument featuring a human face within a circular frame, adorned with star - like shapes, sits in a mountain valley. Tall evergreen trees, a flowing river, and rocky, forested slopes rise behind it under a clear blue sky. Grass and a dirt path surround the monument, marking a scenic stop in a rugged, natural landscape.

Sunlit high - altitude mountain valley with a winding dirt road featuring a large circular turn. Steep, barren rocky mountains frame the valley, with distant peaks under a bright blue sky dotted with scattered clouds. The rugged, unpaved terrain is typical of challenging bikepacking routes.

I had to overcome a few small hills on the way to CP3 and I was annoyed that they were even there. I didn’t want to exert myself anymore. I arrived at the CP in 22nd place—that wasn’t bad at all. I hoped to push into the TOP 20 in the final section.

🤒 I’m feeling a bit off

The checkpoint was at one of the lowest points in the race—I found myself at 1600 meters above sea level. An ideal place to rest. But it was too early to sleep—after all, I arrived there around two in the afternoon. I wanted to continue despite the forecast of heavier rain and thunderstorms in the mountains.

I couldn’t resist a proper lunch—I had borscht and some fried potatoes with chicken…? I can’t remember exactly, but I trusted that the food at the checkpoint would be safe.

When I finished everything, I felt stuffed, so I sprawled out and waited for it to pass. But it wasn’t passing. Actually, I felt worse and worse with each passing moment. I was still ready to leave and I had even packed my things.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Would it pass if I got going?

I kept waiting and waiting until Tomáš Hadámek arrived at the checkpoint too, having caught up with me from the morning. I wasn’t making any moves to leave. In the end I decided to stay overnight. Because of the weather forecast in the mountains, I didn’t want to risk anything. But I resolved to leave maybe at midnight to try to make up for my lost time. I just popped into the shop because I wouldn’t be able to get anything at night.

🤮 In my element

Around six in the evening I went to take a shower because I was getting ready to sleep. I wanted to prepare my things so I could leave during the night, but suddenly fatigue completely overwhelmed me. I wasn’t able to do anything and it was clear to me that I wouldn’t leave until morning.

A person in a black shirt lies on a bed, taking a selfie. The bed is cluttered with bikepacking gear: a water bottle, shoes, and clothing atop a checkered blanket. A small electronic device (likely a bike computer) rests on a patterned pillow. The setting suggests a temporary stay, common after a ride.

I fell asleep quickly. I woke up sometime before midnight, I had to throw up. In the dark I fumbled for the door handle to get to the bathroom, which I fortunately managed. So far I had thrown up twice in races—at Bohemia Divide, where I couldn’t continue afterwards, and at 2000 Miles Adventure, where I eventually recovered.

What caused my nausea I will of course never know. Could it have been the shock of stopping? Could it have been the food? Tomáš had problems later too and we both had borscht at the CP! Hard to say. In any case, that evening I wasn’t at all sure how I would continue. But I was willing to spend as long in bed as necessary.