Written by Jair Hoogland, following his third-place finish at Via Race Chapter III.
Almost 4,000 kilometers, self-supported, across Europe. That is Via Race Chapter III.
Starting in Amerongen in the Netherlands, the route heads through Germany, Denmark and Sweden before entering Norway and eventually finishing in Volda. There is no support crew, no fixed sleeping schedule and no one telling you when to eat, sleep or stop. You carry what you need, follow your self-planned route and make your own decisions. The route starts off with four checkpoints that have to be done in sequential order; after that, there are twelve more gates that can be taken in any order. Planning and route-building skills can be crucial, as there is a lot of elevation and many ferries along the way.
This was my third Via Race and the final chapter of the trilogy. After finishing ninth in Chapter I and seventh in Chapter II, I obviously wanted to do better. A podium place would be great, but knowing my competition, I'd have signed for a top-five finish beforehand.
The Race Begins
The preparations had been done. The bike was ready, the bags were packed and all that was left was to start riding.
The race began at the Proloog in Amerongen, a cycling cafe close to my home. At the start, a lot of familiar faces gathered to wish me luck. After weeks of preparation, the start was finally there: getting out there was what I had worked towards, and I was happy to finally take off.
The first days took us north through the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark and Sweden. Compared with what was waiting for us later, this part of the race was relatively straightforward. Long stretches of road, plenty of kilometers and the usual routine of eating, riding and keeping an eye on the tracker. It wasn't exactly boring. Gate 1, Brocken, was challenging, and this area was nice to cross. Northern Germany and Denmark, on the other hand, were not that interesting, and I was happy when some rolling hills appeared as we entered Sweden.
I rode with and around several competitors, including Gert-Jan. We would see quite a lot of each other during the race. Lucas was another rider I started paying attention to, although he proved in other races to be much stronger than me and at this point already far ahead of me. At this point, however, the finish line was still so far away that predicting the final result was impossible.
Norway Means Business
In Norway, the flat roads disappeared and the mountains arrived.
Norway brought fjords, huge climbs, narrow roads, waterfalls and landscapes that made me want to stop every few minutes and take pictures. Unfortunately, stopping every few minutes is not particularly compatible with racing. The weather also decided to join the adventure. Obviously, the higher we climbed, the colder it became, but rain also appeared regularly, which made it challenging to stay warm. On the plateaus, the combination of altitude and wind could make progress painfully slow. Going from Gate 3, “Suleskard”, to Gate 4, “Lysebotn”, over almost 50 kilometres took me almost three hours, while the legs weren't even that bad.
By the time I reached the refuge, a point in the race that everyone had to visit for at least 15 minutes and where a hot meal would be served, I was inside the top five. Lucas was sleeping here, and I came in within an hour of Gert-Jan. At this point, I realized the podium could be a realistic goal.
After a short night of sleep, I left the refuge early, put a little gap between myself and Gert-Jan and tried to close in on Lucas, who had left before me. Whenever I gained some time on him, I tried to make the gap bigger. Not necessarily through a spectacular attack—this is bikepacking, not the Tour de France—but by simply continuing when I could and sleeping when I absolutely had to.
Next to the route and logistics, sleep became one of the most important tactical decisions of the race. Too much and you lose hours. Too little and eventually your brain starts making decisions that would make a perfectly sensible person question your sanity. On top of that, it kept raining, and facing the rain while relatively fresh is easier than when you already feel miserable.
The breaking point
On day eight, the three of us ended up in the same area again, near Sunndalsøra. We all had to face a lot of rain while going up and down a couple of big mountain passes. In retrospect, this was the breaking point in the race. After an early morning spent pushing up the next big mountain, I created a gap on my nearest competitors. When I noticed they were behind me, I gave it all an extra push. The only question was: could I hold the gap? After all, I had much less sleep than them and was still pushing hard. It could be risky.
After this point, it turned out that Gert-Jan basically had the same route as me, but Lucas was taking a different one. I had planned the other version as well and knew my route was both longer and had more climbing involved. On the other hand, he had more ferries to deal with, and ferries become very interesting when you're racing through the night. Some run frequently, some don't. Missing one can turn a fast section into forty minutes of standing around in wet cycling clothes. This became one of the defining features of the Norwegian part of the race. The mountains determined how fast you could ride, but the ferries determined when you were allowed to continue. At one point, I had gained a significant amount of time by riding while Lucas was stuck. I knew I was taking a risk, as I had to keep riding through the night to make up for my detour and extra climbing while he was resting. But resting also means no progress. I knew that this was one of the moments where a few hours could make a real difference.
That said, the progress wasn't huge. The climb to Dalsnibba was a long one in the rainy night. The rain clouds made it dark, and even with all my lights on, I could hardly see for more than 50 metres. Uphill, this wasn't too big of an obstacle, but on the technical downhill, it meant not making much progress either. It made me sleepy, and I had to stop for a short period of time.
Norwegian scenery
Even though the weather wasn't great in this race I want to point out the scenery
Earlier, this day I reached Gate 15 brought me to the Atlantic Road, one of the most spectacular sections of the route. The road jumps from island to island across a series of bridges, with the Atlantic Ocean on one side and mountains and fjords on the other.
After the Atlantic Road, the route took me towards Trollstigen, one of Norway's iconic mountain roads. In the late afternoon on day nine I got here. The road climbs through eleven hairpin bends, surrounded by steep mountains and waterfalls. Trollstigen means “Troll Path”, named after the trolls of Norwegian folklore. I kept my eyes open for one of them as I climbed, but luckily—or perhaps unfortunately—none showed themselves. It was drizzling, but I was feeling good and enjoying the climb and the views.
The Battle for Third
Back to Dalsnibba and the way towards Strynefjellsveg after it. When I got back on the saddle after my short nap, I checked the tracker and wasn't so certain about my gap anymore. The fight for third place was on.
The route took me over a long gravel section and through the mountains. The landscape was spectacular as far as I could see through the clouds: barren highlands, distant peaks and roads winding through valleys. The clouds became more intense, and I was glad the rain only started falling once I was already in the valley. I checked the tracker in the valley and wasn't sure about my gap. The only thing I could do was keep pushing. At a certain point, the rain became so intense that checking the tracker was impossible. After all, I didn't want to drown my phone. At this point, I just kept pushing. After all, in the end, the one making the most progress has the best chance.
Eventually, the final gate at Vestkapp came closer. The climb to it was short compared with the mountains I had already conquered, but the wind made sure it still had something to say. The road was exposed, and the gusts were strong enough to nearly blow me off the bike. At the top, I took the obligatory selfie and started the descent. For a few minutes, something almost miraculous happened. The rain stopped and the sun appeared, so for a brief moment, I could see the Atlantic Ocean.
The road to this final gate could only be reached from one direction. I didn't see Lucas on it, which could only mean I was ahead of him at this point. Most likely, I would see him on my way back. For that reason, I kept pushing. The later I'd see him, the more I could hopefully demotivate him from catching up. After about 30 km from the gate, I ran into him, knowing I had about twice this distance left, with a challenging climb between us.
Still, I wasn't sure, as there was one final ferry waiting. One that doesn't run very frequently, and just missing it could mean Lucas could catch up. It also wouldn't run at night. Probably that wouldn't be an issue, but I also just wanted to finish this race. When I was on the boat without Lucas, I knew I had secured the podium. Even a flat tyre in the last 5 km between the ferry and the finish couldn't change that.
Finish
After almost 4,000 kilometres, ten days of riding, countless climbs, ferries, rain showers, short nights and questionable amounts of sleep, I crossed the finish line in Volda, completing the podium in third place.
There was applause at the finish, hugs from friends, a bottle of Australian bubbles from Sam and congratulations for the other finishers. My bike was taken care of, I finally got a shower and, before I really understood what had happened, I was sitting inside with a plate of pasta surrounded by friends and familiar faces. Looking back, the result is something I am incredibly proud of. But what makes this race special is everything that happened along the way.
The Via Race trilogy had taken me from Cartagena to Giovinazzo, from Giovinazzo to Amerongen and finally from Amerongen to Volda. Three races, three very different adventures and, each year, a better result.
This final chapter brought the podium. More importantly, I think it was the best race I have ever ridden. Not simply because I finished third, but because of how I raced it: the preparation, the decisions, the early starts, the ferry calculations, the short naps, the long climbs and the ability to keep pushing when the weather was miserable. I'm very proud of my performance and look back on this race with a lot of pride.
The trilogy is now complete.
