Euskadi – Exploration notes

Like many recces for a potential new BikingMan route, the idea always comes from a crazy finisher! The Pays Basque had been on my mind for a while as it’s located in the heart region of the Pyrenees but it’s also the home region of one of our first veteran finisher: Christophe Iliou. So, when Julien Marty, right after completing our Portugal stage, convinced me to head to the Pays Basque early October 2020 on our way back from Faro, I said “yes” !

We set off late from a tiny typical village with Julien, Christophe and the “fish” Maxime. These three monsters had worked hard on the map with an interesting feature coming up after only 20 kilometers of rolling hills: the Artzamendi climb, also known as the “Basque Hell”. Think about a double-digit monster climb which allows you to get one of the most spectacular view on the Atlantic Ocean. I stopped thinking when we hit the first bit of this amazing pass. If you stop in the middle of it, walking will be an option to consider if you plan to reach the top !

The pottoks (basque horses) were welcoming us kindly in the ascent and frightened by our brakes noise in the descent. We then crossed the Spanish border following an amazing gravel section to link again the asphalt in France. The rest of the day was just a gentle warm up with rolling hills to head to Christophe’s friends who welcomed us late in the night to camp in a farm building. The tone had been set: Pays Basque promises to be steep as hell !

Believe it or not, I’m not an absolute fan of the Tour. However, the names of infamous climbs have always resonated in my mind since I’ve been riding a bicycle. The Tourmalet pass (2,115m) was the big target of this second warm-up day. After several sleepless nights in Portugal during the BikingMan event, my legs were tired and the spirit was battling to keep up with the energy needed every day.

Approaching the start of the Tourmalet had been quite interesting with numerous superb villages and herd of sheeps on the road. We passed by the enormous Lourdes city that was far from my kid imagination. The fortified Lourdes castle though is still a major architectural masterpiece to be observed by bike.

A crowded corridor from Montgaillard village to Sainte Marie de Campan reminded us of how busy this road would be during the peak season. We started the ascent after a serious refuel next to the official monument dedicated to Eugène Christophe. You can’t really give up on the ascent after reading the epic story of Eugène (pro cyclist) who broke his fork in the Tourmalet descent in 1913 and had to repair it in Sainte Marie de Campan!

There were 17,20 kilometers of pure joy with almost no cars on the road ahead of us. I had to fight in the final kilometers with the acclimatization but the spectacle at the top felt like a miracle. The snow capped mountains of the Pyrenees and a breathtaking sunset awaited us. That final blow of beauty helped us to gather our last bit of energy to survive the freezing temperatures in the downhill to reach Luz Saint Sauveur.

Far away are the days were flat roads existed. The Pyrenees and the Basque country are the perfect terrain for climbers and a potential nightmare for “rouleurs”. Following the advice of the hotel owner of Luz Saint Sauveur, we made some tweaks to follow quiet back roads to reach Larrau village (host of several stages of the Tour). The weather was amazing and mild for the season but we had to push hard on every hill as it would turn into storm in the next days.

The storm is always ahead of you in these moutains and you’d better be prepared for the worse conditions of your whole cycling experience ! Preparation is clearly key to ride self-supported in this region. The climbs are treacherous and insanely steep which make the progression very slow. Pushing hard is a fragile balance between saving energy VS hurting your body (knees, arse, etc). I had decided to spare my energy for the Borderes (1,156m), Soulor (1,474m) and magical Aubisque (1,709m) climbs.

Indeed, these appetizers were just the beginning of something way bigger. A monster was ahead of us: the Labays pass peaking at 1,351m and before that, we had to cross the famous Marie Blanque pass (1,035m). Legs were destroyed by all the climbing of that stage. Thankfully, we had been blessed by a sunny day; it could have turned into a complete hell with heavy rain and wind.

The Labays pass was the ice on the cake of this amazing day. We followed the Gave d’Issaux river and rode across wild dense forests with a peculiar atmosphere. Without a single noise apart from the natural sound of the forest, we climbed into the enchanting surroundings of what felt like a forgotten place, far from the human civilization. By night, that place must be insanely beautiful.

That morning we set off after a solid breakfast towards Bagargi climb. This one needs to be on every climber’s list with a ramp of 5 kilometers at 12,8% average gradient ! I was glad to be riding a 34 teeth cassette but I still had to push hard. The views were gorgeous and I almost forgot how sore my legs were.

We then crossed the beautiful city of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port before heading to the Spanish border. Roads started to deteriorate seriously and the landscapes also changed drastically. We stopped early in Lizaso village after an easy afternoon as we were totally unable to find any accommodations in the nearby villages. Late September, it was pretty hard to find any hotel open.

Surprisingly, we ended in a great typical basque hotel with a passionate owner who loved riding his mountain bike around. Tomorrow, the weather was supposed to dramatically change with heavy rain and storm.

It was already raining when we took off. Nowhere to hide, the clouds were everywhere. That kind of day where you know you will “chew rain for hours”. Christophe hated to take off under the rain! Fortunately, he lent me a great rain jacket that would prove to be a game changer under these conditions.

We tried to find hot coffee after 3:30 hours of riding but no places were open. In Spain, shops opening hours are different and they don’t really fit with early bird starts ! The rain soaked everything as we rode towards the Atlantic coast. God welcomed us on the ocean with a breeze blowing all the clouds away and we could finally see the sun. The coast felt like a blessing with our wet clothes and tired eyes. We rolled gently towards San Sebastián to enjoy the local “tapas” and a well deserved glass of red wine.

You haven’t visited the Basque country if you haven’t been riding across a proper storm. That day from San Sebastián was the one for Christophe and I. A yellow alert in France means that you might expect floods and heavy waves in the Atlantic. We climbed the amazing Jaizkibel corniche under a pouring rain. The water drops were literally whipping our faces and we could barely hold the handlebars because of the wind burst. My aero-wheels ended up as the worse choice I could ride in these conditions. With Christophe, we were leaning by 45 degrees to fight against the wind. A surf van passed along and I could witness the young couple inside thinking: “WTF these cyclists are doing here with such a weather !?”.

After that “type 2 fun” climb, we headed to Biarritz and St-jean-de-Luz following the coast and its heavy traffic. Soaked to the bones, we landed in the only restaurant still open and ordered the best meal of this recce. Christophe and I looked at each other and we laughed out loud after this epic moment of camaraderie. The brake pads were sanded to metal and stuck to the disc which I figured afterwards was the reason why I had to power 250 watts on flat roads to keep the bike moving.

The Basque country left its mark on us: it’s definitely one of the most brutal area to ride a bike. It’s steep, relentless and the weather conditions are totally unpredictable: the perfect place to enjoy a bike ride…

A massive thank you to the great support we have received to organize this recce:

• Ortlieb (for the bikepacking bags)
• Christophe Iliou, Julien Marty and Maxime (fastclub café!)