Atlas Mountain Race: Day One — James Mark Hayden

A new season. A new race. A new country. What could be better?

I’ve spent a few days in Marrakesh and now I’m at the start of the first ever Atlas Mountain Race. It’s a solo, unsupported, fixed route with three checkpoints, covering around 1,150 km (90% off-road) and with 20,000m of climbing. That’s from sea level to the top of Mt. Everest and back, two and a half times.

It is 8:50 am, the race starts at 9 am and I’m faffing. Calmly, I empty my tool chest (the bottom zip on my frame bag) to find my gorilla tape so I can stick two tubes to the frame. No sooner are they secure than its 9 am and we’re off. Of all the things to forget, it was innertubes; Thanks to Stu Taylor for once again brining me stuff out to a race. As it turns out, I wouldn’t need them… just. We’re rolling out of town neutralised, it’s fast with a police escort at 30 kph, just like they would for a World Tour pro race, not understanding we are a bunch of hairy bike-packers.

We ride past where it was meant to be de-neutralised. Without race organisation there to drop a flag, nothing happens. I ride up to speak with Jay, saying we should be de-neutralised and stop riding together, he nods. I give a shout to riders to say it’s ‘race on’. We continue up the smooth tarmac and many riders are drafting. Perhaps it’s inevitable without a stiff climb to break up the group but it’s against the rules. I hold myself back to keep out of it and ride off to the other side of the road, in the wind. Frustrated, I ride up alongside the group and I ask them ‘Are you going to draft all the way to Agadir?’. This drafting won’t affect the result but they are saving energy, wheel sucking Jay who’s riding on the front. Finally, we turn right off the tarmac, and I can see the group ahead split up. I start passing people, steadily. We hit a loose descent and I fly past a dozen, perhaps their gravel bikes weren’t the best choice. Maybe they’ve never ridden off road? I am reminded of my rookie self, last year at the Italy Divide and the mistakes I made. This first day has a lot of climbing and I am not in a rush to tire myself.

A few hours on and I’m through the resupply after the first big climb. I grab a couple of yoghurt drinks and push on. I know others won’t have stopped but I want a drink and calories, just 10 minutes before we hit the long slog that’s coming up. The second climb is long, near the top there are some steep sections and I push briefly. Finally, I hit the top at 2,500m. There are many riders around me, I am not at the front but hopefully not too far behind. There’s a plateau with a bit of walking that’s soon over. The descent is a mountain bike playground. Feeling good about my bike choice, I pass several riders on gravel bikes as they walked. The highlight is Nick Clarke stacking it right in front of me as his front wheel, with gravel tyres, washed out. He’s up quickly and so I don’t hang about, just long enough for the usual banter. The tables have turned since my Highland Trail 550 crash into the river and I’m rewarded for spending time practicing my mountain biking. (Thanks for the tips Jack!).

At the bottom was Control Point 1. I arrive 1h 30m after Christian Meier and 1h behind Jay, Sofiane and some others. So I sat down for 20 minutes and had a proper meal. We’ve all been riding hard since 9 am and I needed calories and a pause. I’ve given away a little more time than I’d want but not an unexpected amount, given my condition coming in. I am peacefully tucking into my bread and soup (fastest item on the menu), when Nick turns up, like a bull in a china shop to my zen. It’s Nick’s first bike-packing race and he’s not quite au fait with the situation, more used to 24 hour time trials, where every second counts. I have to tell him to chill out and breathe, if nothing else his hyper urgency is ruining my relaxation! I would love to have seen his contrasting urgency at CP3.

I ride off and soon it’s into the darkness. A feature of this race is that night comes quite early, the sun setting just after 7 pm. So, around 12 hours of night. I’m having some bad digestion issues. I feel sick. The first day of races never goes well for me, sometimes I can push through but here I am not in the mood. Of the 8 races I have done, only 2 did I not have problems the first day. Eventually, I pull over around 10pm to stop and rest and I am sick. I have only covered a paltry 193 km. I lay in my sleeping bag for 3 hours, drifting in and out of sleep. I’m not super tired but I have to let my stomach sort itself. This is something I need to work on, it’s my achilles and makes my race harder. Riders pass and shine their lights on me, some commenting that it's too early and they will get to 200 km before they stop. I really appreciate their loud thoughts and shiny lights as I try to sleep! I’ll see them later anyway.

Day One Stats

Distance: 197 km

Elevation: 4,600 m

Riding time: 13h 40m

Stopped time: 1h

Sleep: 3h

Ride with GPS: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/45072297