Today was shaping up to be the toughest day. Because of the elevation gain and the forecast of rain later in the afternoon, it was clear as soon as I got up: This wasn’t going to be a leisurely, easy ride.
I got up at 3:30 a.m. and left the hotel at 4:30 a.m. The breakfast pack was quite an adventure in itself: a huge kebab with cheese, ham, and lettuce—I still haven’t quite figured out exactly what was in it—plus an apple and water. By the way, I still have that apple with me somewhere. Someday, it’ll get its moment to shine, too.
From then on, it was all uphill. The goal was to reach CP9 sometime around midnight. The first big climb took about 2 hours and 20 minutes—a steep, nasty one. It was exactly on this stretch that I met Dragan from Serbia. He’d already started here twice and was participating for the third time. We rode up most of the climb together, chatting every now and then and catching up on the flatter sections. On the descent, we kept a good distance between us because we were both in race mode—and drafting just isn’t an option then.
At the top of the first summit, I put on all my descent gear, including the newly purchased Monday gloves. Given the length and difficulty of the route, though, “staying fresh” was more theory than reality. After the descent, I popped into a supermarket to stock up on supplies. A little food, a drink, and back on the road—that was all I could manage.
The next climb was really tough: 24 kilometers, steep up and down, with flat sections in between that never really felt like a break. In the midday heat, I decided to take a short break. I quickly ate something I’d bought along the way and kept going.
Dragan kept popping up every now and then; we passed each other a few times and rode together toward the 1984 Winter Olympics venue. It was a long, steep climb up to the checkpoint in Jahorina at just under 1,700 meters. At the top, we refueled once more, put on our long-sleeved clothes, and plunged into the descent toward Sarajevo. Once we reached the bottom, it was suddenly 30 degrees again, so we took everything off right away—that’s how quickly you go from winter to midsummer here.
What followed were several tunnels and the heavily trafficked road toward Sarajevo. To be honest, that was pretty rough, especially right through the middle of the city. Compared to the route I rode on the Transcontinental, this was much more unpleasant from a cycling perspective, even though the route is, of course, predetermined. Over ten kilometers right through the traffic, with construction zones, tram tracks, and a lot of hustle and bustle. Along the way, a Serbian guy joined us—he’s a bike courier in Cologne—and said his job is “completely crazy” in city traffic. I think: enough madness for one day.
Before the next climb, I grabbed a bite to eat at a bakery. Dragan and another rider were only about 100 meters behind me, so we kept chatting the whole time. We headed into a long, really grueling climb. Behind us, the forecast storm was already rolling in, and right at the first summit, I put on my rain gear. Not fun, but necessary. Fortunately, the thunderstorm hadn’t reached the other side yet, so I was able to ride the descent in the dry. On Instagram, you could see pictures of other participants in hail and heavy rain—I was really lucky.
The descent itself was fantastic: only three or four kilometers long, but truly stunning in terms of scenery and the play of light. You could already hear the thunder in the background; to the left, the trail led back into the national park, and I was able to take everything off again. Luckily, because the next climb up Visočica was one of the most beautiful—but also one of the steepest—I’ve ever ridden. There were photographers there too, so maybe some photos will surface at some point.
It dragged on for quite a while. I continued over the second summit as the sun was already almost setting. One of my goals that day was to complete this section while it was still light out—and in the end, I just barely managed it. After that, there were still about 30 kilometers left to the finish. On the last 15 kilometers before Konjic, there were often long stretches with an average gradient of 11 percent, plus several tough climbs, each three to four kilometers long. At that point, you’re no longer going fast—you’re just focused on somehow keeping moving forward. I couldn’t manage more than six or seven kilometers per hour, and sometimes only three.
Eventually, I arrived at the checkpoint, got my stamp, gave a quick interview, and drove to the hotel. Once there, the first thing I did was eat a package of TUC crackers—three-quarters of it, maybe even four-fifths. I saved the rest for the next morning, even though I ended up not having it for breakfast. After that, I went to bed relatively quickly. It had been a tough day.
