Atlas Mountain Race: Day Two — James Mark Hayden

I am riding again by 1.30 am. I hadn't planned to sleep much (or at all) the first night. It is what it is. I had to and it's done. No point dwelling. The upside is that I now feel good and legs are fresh. Time to push on.

I ride some bad terrain, across old river valleys and chunky river deposits, pushing the bike up and down small gorges. I am thankful for my headlight; I can see well and progress is good. I learnt my lesson at Italy Divide and brought two Exposure Diablos for my headlights. The night is warm and I ride in only a light jacket. My hairy winter legs are still out; I’m a long way from the ‘aspiring’ pro I used to be. I feel at home here, covering distance in the still hours of the morning. The weather at night is ideal, cool and calm with clear skies. I think of some awful wet weather on previous early season races. Let's hope the weather holds.

I ran out of water an hour ago, the Atlas Mountains are dry. I have crossed several barren riverbeds. I see the left turn onto dirt which starts the 100 km remote section, including the ‘beautiful canyon’. My research pays off; there is a petrol station just 200m beyond the left turning off the race route and it is open 24 hours. I down half a dozen yoghurt drinks and top up my water. I resupply with the racers fuel: unhealthy snacks.

Time to hit the canyon on my Canyon. I had joked before the race that inevitably I’d ride this section at night-time, in reference to the robbery I experiences on ‘Fairytale Canyon’ at Silk Road Mountain Race. Anyway, I am behind my plan and I head up the road just as the sun begins to rise. There’s the first proper hike-a-bike. I put my bike on my back and walk up, then pushing. It's over swiftly. An amazing morning of undulating, winding tracks. Into the early afternoon and the name Nelson gave this place is definitely delivering; the canyon is stunning. It’s dry though, there is no water and I’m running out again. I round a corner and I am blown away as the skyline opens in front of my and the gradient relaxes. Before I know it, I’m flying. I see the media crew up ahead, so I do what any self-respecting idiot would. I let rip. I love to ride fast and I do just that. My bike is loaded up with bike-packing bags, but I descend without caution. I abused this bike in Kyrgyzstan and I know it can take more than I can throw at it. I round a corner; the edge and sheer drop are close. I see Nils the photographer and there’s a small lip, so ever the risk taker I gather all the speed I can and fly off the lip – I get air! I am having the time of my life, there’s nothing I do better and I feel at home.

As I drop down to lower altitudes, I’m just on the northern fringe of the Sahara Desert. The temperature soars. It's only reading 31 Celsius but it feels far more. I am not adjusted to the heat and I begin to roast. My winter white arms are going red. I cannot afford to get sunburnt; this will be hard enough anyway. I need to protect my skin. I stop, take off my mesh base layer and wrap it around my head and neck. I put on my long sleeve merino and baste my bare skin in SPF50. In time, there is resupply; a small shop that sells warm water and snacks. I’m soon topped up on liquids and junk food so, with no time wasted, I head back out. I've met up with a racer, Laurens, at the resupply and head off before him. Maybe the others are not far ahead. I still haven’t seen the tracker; I assume and hope I am somewhere near the front.

It’s a long slog along the lower plain through the late afternoon. The temperature rises – or at least feels like it does. Each time I pass a tree and shade I am so tempted; I would love a moments respite from the heat. Perhaps I will get a puncture and have a valid excuse to stop. Hopefully not. I am struggling, that means others are as well. I must continue.

I cross a bridge and reach a sheer cliff face, it must be 100 metres high, but the track goes straight ahead. A route error, not mine, but the issued route. The footpath isn’t really there, it has been added by someone on OSM. I had expected this mistake, having spotted it as a potential in my pre-race analysis. I just ride around, stopping at another resupply, more warm water and coke and I feel grateful. As I pull in, I meet Jay, an unexpected but pleasant surprise. I must be near the front of the race now; I haven't bothered to check the tracker. Jay and I sort of ride together for the next few hours. Sometimes we talk, if we’re making the same pace. Sometimes one of us goes ahead. It's nice to talk with him. As a total contrast to our current situation, I tell him I want to race Iditarod in Alaska, maybe soon. He’s raced it many times including a few wins.

We both grumble about the poor terrain along the riverbed and then we go to see Omar, the stoner cooking at the waterfall. Omar is not alone! It’s Sunday evening and what seems like the entire local town is out too. We pick and push our bikes in surreal fashion between their barbecues.

We ride a long tarmac climb and are both passed by Carlos Mazon del Campo. He gets out of the saddle to sprint past me. I watch him repeat the comedy scene with Jay. I am not sure what his game is. Most riders would slow and say hello but he’s on a mission.

Jay catches me on the descent, and we roll into town and pull over at the first café, to sit down for a plate of eggs and bread. As we’re eating the sun begins to set quickly. It’s going to be a long night, on top of a long day. This will be the final resupply for the next 12 hours. We both know sitting for 20 minutes to stuff food in our faces is a wise choice. This is no leisurely shared meal. I get the drop on him and head out of town into the darkness. In ultra-distance racing, sometimes overtaking happens in the speed eating element. I want to get clear of him – I prefer to be alone. No more trading places, so I push hard into the night.

Later, fuelled with eggs and bread, I’m crossing some rough but fast terrain and making great progress, I catch Carlos. It seems that only moments after I see his light ahead, it’s behind me. He must be having a bad patch as he is going slow. A bit later on I check the tracker. I’m on my own now, riding in second place. I won’t see any riders for the two days until the finish. I’m feeling good and I ride on, deep into the night.

Around 3 am I pass through a big town; I had not expected anything to be open but there are several 24-hour shops and they're super excited with this dirty customer. They watch me neck several yoghurt drinks, I guess that’s some sort of entertainment! I ride out of town and look for a flat bit of ground to sleep on. Easier said than done when the terrain is just rocks! Thankfully within an hour I am laid out in my sleeping bag, looking up at the incredible beauty of a desert night sky with a canopy of infinite stars. Alarm set for 3 hours’ time and I'm out. It's been a solid day. I’m pleased.

Day Two Stats

Distance: 315 km

Elevation: 4,800 m

Riding time: 23h 45m

Stopped time: 1h 20m

Sleep: 3h

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