by Maghalie Rochette

What an adventure!

When we decided to go to Iceland to take part in the Westfjords Way Challenge, David and I had no clue what to expect. We didn’t know what to bring, what to pack on our bikes, or what it would feel to ride so much in a short amount of time.

After delayed and cancelled flights, we finally made it to Reykjavik 2 days later than planned, but we were missing a bike. At that point, we didn’t have much time before the race. We waited one more night to see if the bike would make it, and when we saw it wasn’t, we had 16h before the start of the race.

David and I drove to the closest Specialized bike shop and purchased an entry level Diverge bicycle for David, as well as a helmet, shoes for me, and a few bags. We decided that David would race this new bike, and we would fit Dave’s bike that had arrived (one of my Crux) to my size. within 30min, the bike was bought and we started the 6h drive to Isafjördur: the small town where the race departed from.

We arrived late in the evening, but right on time for the riders meeting. David built the bike in our hotel room and we packed our stuff for the 1000km until 1:30AM. At 7:00 AM the next day, against all odds we were off!

Each day of the adventure brought different terrain, new landscapes, and new cultural experiences. Every day, I was enjoying every pedal stroke and every minute of the day. It seemed like time was flying by, yet, I felt like I was fully living each minute of the day. You can check out my komoot collection to get more details on what each stage brought).

Is it harder to slow down?
Getting into the race, I didn’t know if I would really be "racing". I’m a competitive person, but for this particular event, and because of its unique format allowing riders to stop at various cultural spots, I was mostly looking to explore Iceland and just go with the flow. Results didn’t matter to me. Still, if everyone would be racing, I would definitely take part. And honestly I was looking forward to riding hard between the cultural stops.

In the first 2 stages, David and I rode with our friend Lael Wilcox. We had a blast. We met a rider named Hannah Simon who was super cool and she joined our group. We gave her the nickname of "Crop Top Hannah", because despite the cold temperature (and when everyone else was wearing jackets over their long sleeves jersey), she was riding all day with short shorts and a crop top cotton t-shirt! She was awesome! We were riding at a good pace, but no one was focused on racing; we enjoyed each other’s company and waited for each other when one had to fill up bottles in a waterfall. We were not full-on racing by any means, but if one of the girls would have rode off the front, I gladly would have followed…I am quite competitive after all!

Except that’s not what happened. Many people may think that “racing” an event like this would be harder. It certainly would have been harder on the body, and probably would have taken me to a place where I’d challenge myself mentally. But in a way, this is what I do all year long, so for me, that’s what feels natural. What happened is the complete opposite, and it may have challenged me even more.

When we decided that David would race on the newly bought bike on such a short notice, we agreed that we would stay together. We didn’t have enough “puncture repair” material to both be self-sufficient. So every time David punctured (which happened every day), I stayed with him behind, and every time we would catch up to the group either after a big effort or we’d meet up at a cultural spot. However on Stage 3, David started feeling tired. His bike was heavy and (although we didn’t know at the time) he was starting a cold. He struggled to keep the pace with our group, when I was still feeling good. It sounds so bad, but that really put me in a tough spot. I wanted to keep going with the front group, and felt very capable of it. Yet, the person I loved was struggling, and I knew the right thing was to stay with him.

I know this sounds really bad…the correct or "nice" thing to do is obvious. But my nature is to be a racer, to be competitive, and to want to be at the front. In events like these, I usually care only for myself. However, I could see that David wasn’t well and I had rarely seen him like this. I chose to stay behind with him and let our friends go at the front. At that moment, I made a decision; I had to completely let go of any idea of results, and completely leave my ego out of it if I wanted to keep enjoying the ride. The worst is to stay in between and not make a decision...you end up being annoyed if you stay behind, but feeling bad if you go in front. But once I accepted that I had chosen to support Dave, something magical happened. I started really enjoying the moment, and suddenly, I cared so much about helping him. My goal became for him to have a good experience. I felt very invested in this goal.

The last stage proved even more challenging. The two of us stuck together, and David was at the lowest point I had ever seen him. I had never seen him in such a vulnerable position. I was very happy to be at his side, as this is a moment that got us closer and that we’ll remember for a long time. We went through all the emotions, but were eventually able to laugh through it. There was a point where he told me he wouldn’t make it until the end, he felt really sick, so I just stayed there silently with him, and supporting how I could. We made it out of the roughest section of the day and he told me that if I was willing to stay with him until the end, he would try to finish the stage. I happily agreed. To be honest, it was painfully slow at times…but we made it! I was so proud of him, but also very proud of myself for making this decision. David always supports me, and for once, I got to support him in something! It was tough for me to forget my ego, but in the end it felt pure. This experience allowed me to find something new within myself, and it felt just as fulfilling as fighting for a win.

A new love for the bike
Our week at the Westfjords Way Challenge was simply incredible. The best part may have been to meet and to ride with so many great people. We didn’t know anything about the Ultra or Bikepacking community, but we felt so welcomed and we very much bonded with the other participants over this experience.

I have been travelling to race my bike for 15 years. Yet, I had never considered travelling BY bike. It’s been a revelation for me. I discovered that riding is, for me, the best way to discover a new place, because while you pedal around the country, you get to FEEL the place with all your senses. I’ll remember the smell of lupine flowers as we rode through them, the taste of waterfall water, the feeling of the wind on my skin or the hot geothermal water in the hot pots, the sound of the sheep on the side of the road, the meetings with the locals, and the magnificent views & unique perspectives we had on the landscape.

This experience changed the way I see my bicycle. I’ll always love to race it as fast as possible, but I’ve now discovered a new facet to my relationship with it. It gave me a renewed sense of appreciation to riding, and I couldn’t be happier. Bikes are amazing!

Iceland is raw, untouched, and warm at the same time. You should pack your bike and go check it out!

The courage to try something
All the participants at this event had different backgrounds. Some had many ultra-endurance races under their belt while others had started riding a bike 1 year ago. Yet, all of us jumped into this same challenge of riding 960km over 4 days.

This is a big challenge. I’ve been a professional cyclist for 10 years and I had never ridden that much in 4 days. I thought I was ill prepared for it, but figured my background of riding more or less 20h per week over 10 years would allow me to complete it. Those were my thoughts. Yet, some people, who have started to ride 1 year ago, were brave enough to sign up and be confident they’d finish…and many of them did!

For me, this is an incredible lesson. I think that because I live in a world of intense preparation for optimal performance, it is not in my world of possibility to do something I’m not 100% prepared for. I rarely try something completely new…or if I do, I start slowly. These people showed me that perhaps I could be more adventurous in life. They taught me that it’s okay to simply commit to a new experience and accept that it will unwind the way it does…and that you can simply live it to the fullest with its highs and lows, even if you haven’t prepared 15 years for it.

On a similar note, David finished the challenge with a 1500$ bike purchased the day before the race. The bike was good but the drive train was Shimano Calis which is the cheapest you can buy, which I’m guessing is probably meant for someone riding a few times per summer on a flat surface…not to cover 1000km in the mud, dirt, rain, and rough terrain of Iceland. Gosh that bike gave us trouble at times, and the ride certainly wasn’t as smooth for David. But, the bike withstood it all! This gave me an appreciation for the high quality gear we always get to ride. However, similarly to what I said about not being the most prepared, this showed me that we shouldn’t stop ourselves from doing something just because we don’t have the most up to date, high end, optimal equipment.

Here’s to trying new things!

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