Day Three started well, crossing into Serbia. I’m sure others have different strategies, but for me having landmarks and milestones helps with my motivation, and crossing a border counts as a milestone. It isn’t all good though – in this case it also came with a change of language (not that my Bulgarian was good enough to be much benefit) and a change of currency. Serbian currency is actually quite difficult to get outside of Serbia, so like many others I was relying on finding an ATM, or failing that people who would accept payment with card or Euro/Bulgarian Lev.
I had a small amount of food with me but getting more was a priority, so I pulled in at the first place I saw over the border but as I got there a couple of other riders told me that he was only accepting Dinar. I kept rolling until I reached a much smaller shop, at about the same time as another rider. We both went in and used hand gestures to determine that the guy was not able to take card payments. The other rider asked about Euro and was told no, so he went to leave, but I figured we were close enough to the border to justify asking about Lev. Somewhat to my surprise he was happy to take Lev, so I called the other guy back and we set about purchasing a seemingly random assortment of food and drink. Much to my delight I was able to find a chocolate milk type product, so that was added to breakfast and then we handed over our Lev and even got some Dinar as change. Somehow this felt like a major achievement!
Shortly afterward we reached the start of the parcours, where the road once again turned to gravel. There is a lot of talk at the moment about whether the parcours were too tough this year, and to my mind they were. Not this part though. Road surface makes a huge difference to speed and comfort, and given that so much of this ride can be on great roads I would prefer that all of it was. Having said that, a bit of rough road to get to a great spot or cross over something that otherwise would need a long trip to get around is absolutely ok. So for now we were on a gravel road that could be easily ridden, and it slowly climbed through a beautiful forest, and I was all OK with that.
At the top of that road though we turned left for an out and back detour. The road was actually sealed here because it was so steep, but it quickly backed off a bit and went back to gravel that got progressively worse as we climbed. At this point I met a friend coming down, who shared with me that he had suffered eight punctures so far. Without wanting to jinx myself I silently appreciated the tyres I had chosen. I had been mainly riding but walking short sections, not long after that though the road deteriorated to the point where I could see it was unridable for quite a way, so I swapped shoes (we had been warned, and although I chose to ride in road shoes I also brought along a pair of minimalist sneakers) and resigned myself to pushing the bike to the top.
The view from the top was nice, but to be honest it was far from the best view I had during the race, and it wasn’t long before I walked back down. Once I was through the worst of it I got back on the bike, only to meet someone coming up. I moved over to give him a clear path through so he didn’t lose momentum, but he headed straight for me. I moved over further, and promptly lost my front wheel in some deep sand and landed with a thump on the dirt. I sensibly divided most of the impact between my knee and my front derailleur, and lost a little skin, but generally felt ok.
Overall, this was the worst section of the race for me, and it is this section that makes me agree that sections of the parcours actually detracted from the race. On the other hand, I know that some people loved this section and have heard that some people rode all the way down (would be interested to know if anyone actually made it all the way up), which just goes to prove that the task of a race director is not an easy one, and you can’t please everyone. Regardless of how much or how little I liked the course, I appreciate the hard work that went into setting it.
From the point where we had left and susequently rejoined it the road was sealed again, making for a nice descent towards the checkpoint. The parcours had actually been shortened a little due to news of work on a bridge that it had originally crossed, and we had been told to find our own way from the end of the parcours to the checkpoint. I think a few people found fairly long alternatives, but I noticed a detour that added on only about 1km and started maybe half a kilometer before the bridge in question. Details of the bridge work hadn’t been clear and my initial plan was to go to the bridge, see if I could get over, and if not to back-track to the detour. Once I actually approached I was feeling a little exhausted all around, so I just took the detour without even looking at the state of the bridge. That was, of course, a mistake – when I got to the checkpoint I heard from others that they had ridden straight over the bridge, despite it being down to one narrow lane. Still, not a huge issue in the larger scope.
This checkpoint was in a hotel, and on arrival I was greeted by someone from the hotel telling me where I could get food, and that just seemed like a great idea so I headed in for what turned out to be a very long stay. A very long meal was followed by a very long time tending to my slightly damaged knee, my quite sore posterior and another minor issue I was having, and that was followed by a very long time caring for my bike which had been shifting badly since the crash landing.
Eventually, several hours later, I got back on the bike and started heading north. All the time I had spent in the hotel had been hot and sunny, but I had looked at the weather forecast and knew that it was going to get progressivly wetter where we were. As I headed out the clouds came over and it started raining on and off. I was pretty keen to stay dry as long as possible so I dodged rain-showers for a while, pausing when the rain came over under the nearest shelter and then heading out again. During a heavier shower I paused outside a hotel where another rider was eating on a very nice looking balcony. He came out to greet me and suggested that stopping there was a good idea because the rain was coming, but I felt like if I kept going I might manage to outrun the rain, and basically I just wasn’t ready to stop yet. Plus if I did stop that early then I knew I would want start again very early and the forecast was for a lot of rain in the early hours. Somehow riding and having it start raining on me is sort of ok, but setting off from a perfectly good hotel while it is pouring down seems so much harder! As soon as the rain eased off I headed north again.
At this time of year the days are long in that area, and it was just getting dark as I rode straight past the left turn I had planned to take. My computer beeped and I looked back, but all I could see was corn-fields. I kept riding, on what should have been a parallel road on the other side of the railway tracks. The map showed another left coming up.
It was properly dark by the time I reached the motorway entrance. This was not my road, and I hoped it wasn’t going to mean lengthy backtracking. I asked the guy in the toll-booth, who happily turned out to speak very good English. He told me that there was a small turn about 500m back. Perfect.
I rode back, watching the distance. When I hit 1km, I decided I had missed it, so I turned around again and went slowly this time. As I was turning I noticed another rider coming behind me, and wondered if he was looking for the same exit. I rode back a few hundred meters and then saw it – a tiny little gravel track leading into the corn. Still, it was leading in the right direction so I took it, followed it down under the railway line and through some of the stickiest mud I have ever seen (unfortunately putting a foot down in the process – it took me forever to get that stuff off my shoe) and then was on the road I was meant to be on in the first place.
By this time, I was just feeling exhausted. It wasn’t that late, but I was just done in. I had only ridden – well, travelled – 215km with 1,881m but I was exhausted. Coming through a town I saw a hotel, and decided it was time to stop. I went in and asked if I could have a room and take my bike into it. The couple running the hotel were super friendly but were absolutely not going to let me take my bike into my room, but they could offer a separate secure room. Given how late it was and the low likelihood of anyone else arriving I decided that for tonight I could live with that. Ironically, at that moment, someone else arrived. It was Oliver, the rider who had been behind me approaching the motorway, and he was happy enough with the proposed bike storage too. Sergio and his wife were asking 20 Euro each for a room with breakfast included, but when we both explained that we were leaving very early they said that they could make us some food now instead. That sounded good, so I went up to have a shower before returning for some great pasta.
I had an interesting discussion about the bike storage as well – Sergio wanted to know why everyone was so concerned about bicycles that a couple of riders had already ridden on when told they couldn’t take their bikes into their rooms. How much were these bikes worth? I explained that it wasn’t just about the cost of the bikes, nor about the cost of the gear on the bike – riding TCR is a huge commitment in terms of money, time and effort. It requires hours and hours of planning, hours and hours of training, hours and hours of perfecting the bike setup and the gear setup. I had sacrificed time with friends, time with family, time doing work. I had skipped events I otherwise would have gone to, and I had used up every bit of leave from work I could possibly accumulate, and then some. I was reasonably injured when I decided to have another go at TCR, and my rehabilitation had been painful and hard. If my bike and gear got stolen at that point I couldn’t have continued. All of the sacrifice, all of the pain, all of the investment over the last year would have been wasted.
I think I might have got a bit carried away with the details at some point and the translation app on Sergio’s mobile may have struggled slightly, but when I finished they both seemed pretty impressed. I wondered briefly whether the riders who arrived tomorrow might not be allowed bikes in their rooms after all.
For now though I was going to bed – I needed it.
👍