The Transcontinental Race #5

The Transcontinental Race is a self-supported solo race from Belgium to Greece (3990km and 40.000m D+). The idea came from world cyclist Mike Hall who has won similar races in the US and worldwide. The concept is simple: the clock starts on top of the Muur of Geraardsbergen (Belgium), and you just get your ass to Meteora (Greece) as fast as possible with no help from the outside.

  

On the road, there are 4 obligatory Checkpoints where you must validate your race card with a stamp. All of these Checkpoints (CP) are mythical places:

• CP1: Schloss Lichtenstein, south of Stuttgart.

• CP2: Monte Grappa, near Treviso.

• CP3: the High Tatras Mountains, between Poland and Slovakia

• CP4: Transfagarasan Highway in the Karpat mountains of Romania

The arrival is nothing less than the Monastery of Meteora (Greece): an iconic spot located on top of strange rock formations.

After « dotwatching » this race for two editions I have finally decided to register for it. There are about 1000 candidates for only 350 entries.

(In my next article I will explain how I passed the registration procedure)

DAY 1: The Great Escape

My grandmother’s house in Hasselt was an important step in my great escape

By no means could you describe my first trip as a well-prepared touristic event. There were no friends and family waving me goodbye. Nor did I know where to sleep the next nights. I only knew I would cycle sounthwards to Rome. It all started like a wonderful escape from the cosy place where I grew up. And in a way, I wanted to keep it secret.

This is the context: we’re talking July 2001. My year at university had been a complete mess. I had just broken up with Anne, my first full-time girlfriend. And I knew I would spend my whole Summer studying to pass the exams in September. There was nothing else I could do to escape the current situation. No way out.

Only a true prison break could give a meaning to my life. That’s it: I needed to achieve something huge by myself. But my parents would never agree.

So I sold my old bike to a friend, bought a new one and stored it at my grandmother’s place. She wouldn’t notice any difference. I also found a hiding place for my bivvy bag – behind a tree, a few kilometers from home. So I could leave for a few days with a regular backpack and stay under the radar.

PROBLEM: When I arrived at the tree where I hid my bivvy bag, it had been stolen!! There I stood, homeless 2km from my village, with all my stuff packed. Was this the end of my plans? Would I need to go back home to get other gear? I decided to « call a friend » instead. My discrete brother Benoît brought me another (much heavier) bivvy bag and told me to take care.

 

 

How to FFWD your life

In the splendid animation movie « Les Triplettes de Belleville » (2003), a bunch of cyclists are forced to pedal in front of a movie screen. Their feet slowly make the landscape move on.

 

Imagine a dreadful Friday afternoon at work. Minutes are taking hours and you’re itching for the weekend to begin. But you can’t just press a button and make time run faster. Life doesn’t work like that…

When you think about it, there are only a few moments in life where you can completely decide how fast things around you evolve. You can’t speed up people’s answers to your questions. You can’t slow down the pace of your kid’s growing process. I can only come up with three situations that allow you to slow down or accelerate time:

1. fictional works (books and videos even allow you to go back in time)
2. shock situations (remember that very second before your smash on the ground?)
3. individual transportation (hiking, cycling, paragliding, car when no traffic jams)

 

To me, a cycling  trip feels  exactly like pressing the « time » button and choosing my own pace for two weeks. Typically, that goes with the rhythm of a song that plays in my head. As such, the world around me acts like a theatre scenery that I’m pushing forward with my legs.

• North of France?  « Boring with all those fields. Let’s accelerate things a little. »
• Croatian coastline?  « Slow dowwwn ! I definitely wanna hang around here ! »

 

On my trip to Dubrovnik, after one week of harsh pedaling across southern Germany and the Austrian Alps, I had my Mom on the phone. She probably didn’t expect me to answer this:

Mom: « You’re in Italy now and it’s sunny! We are still stuck here in the rain. Lucky you! »

Sebi: « I just pushed the scenery forward with my legs. It’s up to you to do the same. »

 

So who are you anyway?

During the 2014 trip to Dubrovnik (island of Mali Losinj, CROATIA)

 

Born on a 1979 Sunday in Belgium, I have always imagined my life would be exceptional (read about the Gen Y syndrome). The gentle path suggested to me was, however, all too quiet. So I shook things up a little. Freudians would probably diagnose me with wanting to impress my caring Mom and standing up to my absent-minded Dad. But maybe I was just too much of a troublemaker.

Background & education

One can easily describe me as a humanist. When I travel, those along the road become my surrogate friends, and I enjoy to learn about their habits and culture. But even in my home town, I can talk to a stranger as if (s)he were an old pal. Brussels is a perfect city to make random encounters.

I’m also eager to communicate. From an early age I was regularly appointed to write essays for the class. I knew how to place the words in such a way that they sounded nice and fluid. That would take me hours. Later I became quite skilled at making people’s caricatures and original party invitations. And finally I graduated in advertising.

School excursions to French cathedrals, Renaissance palazzi and Greek ruins gave me a certain interest in all things historical. That and my repeated trips across the continent made me feel more European than Belgian. The more I travel through Europe, the more I believe in a common future. A progressive and green future where we can show the way.

Health

I have always been into sports. As a kid, I was not the most gifted of the pack, but I used to end among the first 20%. No specific health issues. No heavy injuries. No glasses. We ran and played soccer a lot at boarding school. When going to College, I held on to this habit, unlike most of my classmates.

After that, sports came in like waves: I became a heavy swimmer (5km per week), then a fanatic runner (ran half marathon 5 times), then approached futsal and badminton. But one sport remained constant: cycling. It became my way to ‘own’ the world around me. Twelve years later, this hobby has taken me to almost every country in Western Europe.

You will not hear me say that my Eurotrips require no training. They do. And they are hugely exhausting. But anyone could decide to discover the world at his own pace. From the moment you can climb that hill, the world behind is yours.

To sum things up:

idealism + good health + opportunities + curiosity = Sebi Cicleta.

Connecting islands of population

The Ancient Greeks became good sailors because of the many islands surrounding the mainland. That’s what the school teacher taught us during a history class, back in 1992. Standing on Cape Sounion, they could already see the blue hills of Aegina and Kea. There was always a next island to sail to, another territory to discover. So they made it to Asia Minor and could improve their skills.

I like to use this example when I’m asked about the « why » part of my bicycle passion. The small town where I grew up is linked to the outer world with straight roads wearing the names of the places they lead to. (e.g. the « Luikersteenweg » will take you to Luik/Liège). Not national heroes, not random numbers, but places. As a kid, these road names made me curious.

It didn’t last very long before I went upstream to look where they all came from. So one day I yelled my parents goodbye, hopped on my bike, and pedaled to Maastricht following the Maastrichtersteenweg for hours. I was 11.

That’s how I discovered my first island.