Transiberica (less than 3,000 kilometers across the Iberian Peninsula) is a race that starts at 9:00PM. Therefore, day zero is a long journey through the hours of waiting for this longed-for start.

My Hotel Arxanda, which was located on the highest hill in Bilbao, required me to log out at 11am. I made an agreement with the owner that I could check out at 1.30 pm, so I lay in bed as long as possible to make this race waiting time as short as possible. I couldn’t sleep anymore, but just lying down with my eyes closed, calming my mind, something like meditating before the race, it was all very pleasant and gave me some kind of peace. I couldn’t always allow myself to have moments like this before the race.

The rest of the day I was waiting. I picked up my starter pack, and from there it was still seven hours left to start. Although the question „what to do here?” was not that problematic because it was known that: eat and rest, but the time was passing exceptionally slow.

Together with Radek Rogóż and Cezary Urzyczyn, as well as Richard and Sam Gates, we found a small bar on the northern side of the river, where we ate pasta and other food. They all went to their hotels afterwards, and I went to the start, where until 9 pm I was talking to every rider I have met.

At 8:30 pm it got preety crowdy near the Puppy. I drank a cup of coffee with Ihor, whom I met with pleasure the day before, I said goodbye to Douglas, for a meeting with whom I had been waiting for over two years and renewed my acquaintance with Hippy (whom I had already briefly met at the Karkonosze Pass during TCRno6).

At the end, just a quick toilet, a group photo and start. The last minutes gone like crazy.

We started at 21:00 on Saturday, August 14, 2021
The take-off was escorted and not too fast. I wanted to get to the front of the peloton as soon as possible, because I felt the safest there. I am always stressed beeing in the slow peleton, especially around the city with railroad tracks, curbs etc.

On the front I’ve met Urlich, the favorite of the race. I didn’t know the man, and I thought it would be worth a few words before we go deep into to Spain. It turned out that we rode the first 90 kilometers together. Justinas was with us also (he rides next to me at 30 kilometer and says that he is not on his route and now he has to follow us). I only replied that I thought it was madness and that I wish him good luck.

At the exit from Bilbao, we had two hills to cover. On the second, Urlich clearly attacked, and to be honest I was a bit tired of this joint ride, so I didn’t care about this „attack” much and decided to go with my own pace. This is a very long race. As a reward, I was completely alone for the next 400 kilometers, having the two leaders at the close range, which was fine for me. I was looking for my rhythm and my speed, what is always important to me at the beginning of every race.

On the route, in the plan for the first hours of the race, there was a large city, Zaragoza. The entrance there I’ve planned along some small side roads and through the city on a bicycle road to minimize red lights as much as possible. Ultra racing is not an allleycat and it is in a very good taste to stop at every red light. The second possible entry option was the highway (much faster and legal option) but when I was planning the route I didn’t expect such a tail wind on the first night and I was convinced that I would enter Zaragoza in the morning around 8, so traffic would be heavy and dangerous on the highway.

I really regretted, that I did not prepared the second track for the motrway entry in my Garmin, when at 5 in the morning I was entering an empty city on a not too nice cycle road, full of broken branches and leaves. I knew that I had lost some time here to the two leaders who were still riding together. Nevertheless, I quite efficiently got through this undiscovered yet city and, as planned before the race, I quickly refueled bottles on outside the city centre Shell. After Zaragosa I continued on the N-II national road, towards the small town of Tortosa where the ascent to Mont Caro, the first checkpoint of the race bagan.

So far, the temperature has been perfect. The announced heat wave with the expressive name of Lucifer seemed almost impossible to happen. But when the sun came out, the real adaptation began and I realized what cycling in 45 degrees meant. I had to seriously slow down to be able to continue the race, and I did the climb to Mont Caro in full sun, being at the foot of the mountain at 1:30 pm. In fact, this climb wasn’t that bad really, something like iconic climb to Polish Prehyba, but twise as long and without a moment of proper shade. Only from time to time I could experience a bit of shadow at the edge of the road, where without thinking I was stopping for a short moment to cool my head and the whole body. At least these were the moments when I realized that the area is wonderful, the views were amazing, and four eagles did fly above my head. It was nearly like from the Lord of the Rings.

At the fourth kilometer of the climb, Urlich was riding down the hill. He told me the exact same story about the heath. We did high fives and I keeped climbing.

I hear the thunder high above and I’m already starting to dislike it. Four kilometers from the top, Justinas is coming down the mountain. He doesn’t stop, he just shouts greetings, and glad to see the mountain behind him descending to Tortosa. As the third rider, I struggle to climb up, listening to the thunder coming from behind the summit with increasing anxiety.

Two kilometres before the summit, everything suddenly changes. The sun is gone quickly, the clouds immediately flood the entire sky and it is starting to thunder really hard. You can hardly see the summit, it’s grey and suddenly it got very windy. On the one hand, it’s nice because it cooled down a bit, but on the other hand, I had close contact with the lightning quite recently, when I was riding my bike in my favourite Beskid Wyspowy. I was sure I didn’t want to relive this situation.

This sudden change of weather found me at 1,200 meters above sea level, but just in the place where the finish of the climb led along a distinct narrow road and there were several houses at the fork. One of them had a large covered terrace. I hid under it without thinking. I left my steel Hultaj 10 meters away and took refuge under the roof myself. At the same moment, the thunder began to be even louder and it began to rain.

What to do, I thought. Well, sleep. This is probably the best I could do. So I lay down on a wooden bench, set the alarm clock to 1 hour, and tried to sleep. Unfortunately, to no avail. I was lying and turning from side to side listening to louder and louder thunders coming from the top of Mont Caro. The entire storm operation took over 1.5 hours. In the meantime, two downpours passed, a lot of strong thunder, strong wind, and I fidgeted on the bench, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep for a moment. After this time it suddenly quieted down.

So I went to the so-called peak attack. Some meters before the summit, I meet Simon and together we enter the observation deck. Simon was in terrible shape. Very worn and tired. He tells me that he has been riding without water for a long time and that he was not really aware of the danger of the storm.

I took a photo and by looking at Simon I got sure he is able to ride down on his own. At the downhill ride, I met a whole cream of riders who climbed to the top one by one. There is also Radek Rogóż at the bottom, who says that the storm also caught him several kilometres earlier.
It’s 6:30 PM. I lost a lot of time on this mountain. In the town below, I rode to a petrol station, where I eat cold but cooked pasta from the box. It’s nasty, mixed up with some kind of cold fish, but I stuff it into myself by force because I know very well that ultimately my body will respond very well to real food. I refill water bottles, buy something for the road, bars, croissants and I move on. Simon also shows up at the station. I’m glad he made it downhill and he is glad to finally refill his supplies.

I continue my ride towards the Pyrenees, knowing that now I have to make up for the hours lost on this rather difficult first day of the race. At the same time, I am aware that this is just the beginning and the second night at such a pace requires several hours of sleep. Fortunately, it gets colder every hour, and riding into the night has always resulted in a positive acceleration and freedom of riding for me.

On the way, I book a place at the Casablanca Hotel, in Fraga, and I know that I have to get there before midnight so that the restaurant, which is literally the next door, is still open. I’m riding very well, and the thought of showering away today’s sweat and salt after that first day of 45-degree heat has completely eclipsed my exhaustion.

I finally arrive at the hotel at 11:30 pm. The restaurant next door has already closed kitchen, but eventually, I take a few slices of pizza, two solid sandwiches with practically everything I can get, lots of water and a Coke.

I take my bike to my room on the second floor, take my dream shower, eat everything I have and fall naked on my bed, ordering a wake-up call for 2:00 am. Lying down, I feel the air conditioning set to 15 degrees, contrasting with the skin of my body, which has been warmed after a whole, preety hot day.