From Passo Tonnale, the Alps chapter was over. It was quite a relief to successfully pass the largest mountain range of Europe. But we all knew that the next enemy would be the heat of the Po Valley. The next days would bring us further to the South along the Croatian Coast, Bosnia and Montenegro. Things were getting serious. And the dogs were waiting 😀
The very long descent to Trento allowed to pump up the average speed of the day. I had fun chasing some cars in the switchbacks and even reached 80km/h at a certain point. Trento smelled like a city of Southern Europe. The night was nicely warm and there was music in the streets. Since I was in late mode now, I enjoyed breakfast and let the morning people (Lizzie Jenkins in the first place) take their daily advance. On the tracker I noticed that Raymond Dulieu, usually a top 20 guy, had slept close to Trento. What was he doing there?
I met him a couple of kilometers further and he told me that his bike was new and did not have the same geometry. This caused his achilles to hurt. A few words later he had found some extra grit and rode an excellent day until Trieste. I would not see him again until Burgas, as his excellent condition allowed him to ride faster than me.
My struggle with the heat was real that day. Pasta and buffala in Bassano del Grappa helped a bit, but soon I was feeling very thirsty again, as if I could not drink enough. Milk, water, lemonade, frozen yoghurt… Only a short nap could bring back some energy. I also dipped my head in the open-air irrigation systems that this area has. After a battlefield of a day, I ended up in Trieste with 295km on the Wahoo. The hotel could serve me a quick dish of meat and pasta, right before closure.
There I was, one week in, ready to tackle Slovenia and Croatia. What a first week this had been! I could be proud of the progress!
The next morning as I climbed to the Slovenian border, I met my friend and TCRno6 legend Malte Hager (cap 63). He is one of the participants I considered as a direct competitor, and there he was. His strong and continuous riding had allowed him to catch up with the slight delay he had before the Alps and I suspected that he was in sleep or food deficit. But I was wrong! He rode on very strong until Burgas and ended a few hours before me.
Few kilometres after Rijeka I discovered the joy that drinking 1,5 litres of raw milk can be. I felt so thirsty that I could empty such a bottle in 2-3 minutes. My family suspected that it caused me to be tired the next days. Digesting so much milk takes a lot of energy. But so far things went fine. For the rest of the day I would follow the light blue sea to near Zadar. I felt a bit lonely at the seaside, as all other participants were navigating inland. But the sea breeze definitely helped me advancing faster than I should have. Resupplies were scarce, though. But by the end of the day, I was proud of my 280km and close to Raymond and Malte, Lizzie not so far.
The town of Obrovac where I had arrived had no rooms left, but after a few beers a German tourist called Hadi and his sons were impressed by my ride and welcomed me into their apartment where I could take a shower and camp. It was not such a good night because he snored a lot. But probably better than should I have slept outside in a bus shelter.
Leaving Obrovac I was treated to a morning climb to 600m. The road crossed some kind of Western landscape with loose cows and destroyed villages. I had 1,5 litres of milk again in the next village. But then it was like all the energy had left me. The food was not enough to refuel me. I took a 1 hour nap in a closed school. A bit further I needed spaghetti. It was just time to accept that I was having ‘THAT’ day. My friends were slowly pedaling away and I could do nothing to catch them. Just accept and try to limit the damage.
With the milder evening temperatures my energy level came back. I changed my route completely with the aim to sleep in Mostar. The perspective of following a valley encouraged me. Some easy kilometres that would bring me closer to CP3. I soon crossed the Bosnian border, the kingdom of Nikica. Right across the border, a big party was going on with fires and music. It gave a tremendous first impression of Bosnia. People are so alive and outgoing here! There are lights in the night! I kept a high average speed until the last climb before Mostar.
Wait but… A climb to reach a river city? Who invents these things? Mostar has an elevation of literally 50m, so why do we need to climb this steep road to 350m? At a certain point I was screaming at the engineers who built this nonsense. I was tired and desperate. But the view made up for it, partly. Mostar seemed to fill up the whole valley, as far as the eye could see. A bit like the typical views of Beverly Hills.
I crashed down in a hotel that I had booked in advance. It was clad with Mother Theresa paintings and other religious paraphernalia. And the leaderboard told me that Lizzie was staying in the same hotel. For some strange reason I felt reassured that she was around. Even without seeing her, I knew that I had pedaled well and her little dot 24 connected me to the race.
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