Near and Far - Alice's Trans Balkan Race

The Trans Balkan Race is a 1350km fixed route bikepacking race. The route traverses the Dinaric Alps off-road, heading south from Slovenia into Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and finally Montenegro through ten national parks. To say this is a good route is an understatement. Bea and Luca have done an outstanding job at both route planning and race hosting. It felt like a curated tour of the best of the Balkan interior. It is 88% off road but there are no unnecessary hike-a-bikes and no long road stretches. Just long climbs into varied, beautiful places. During the race I spent most of my time in high alpine meadows where the vibrancy of the greens, and the cacophony of insects, brought into relief just how depleted our biodiversity is in the UK.

The Balkans feel near and far. They are in Europe but they are definitely different. Other. It feels like an adventure much further afield. The borderlands tell tales of its most recent conflicts, and the different regions host their own melange of tumultuous histories and melting pot cultures including communist, Ottoman, and Austro-Hungarian, muslim and orthodox and slavic. The terrain, though not technical, covered every type of off-road imaginable. It could be fast, smooth and hard packed, loose and rocky, steep and washed out, soft and sapping, slippery and enraging. It was often all of these things each day. One thing was unanimous amongst racers: we completely underestimated how hard the route was going to be and had been truly humbled by the mountains of the Balkans - at the whim of its weather and the long stretches between resupply.

Owing to the “karstic” landscape which means water travels underground in channels and does not pour from the mountains as I’m used to in Scotland I changed my hydration strategy - opting for the hydration vest and 2 soft-flasks to give me up to 3L of water. I hate racing with a vest because of how air can’t circulate, but this vest and its many storage features were absolutely faultless. I rode a Sonder Signal Ti which I upgraded from stock with a carbon wheelset, fast rolling Thunderburt/ Race King tyres, and a Hope 155m crankset with a small 30t chainring. Everything was almost the same as my HT550 set up, just a lot more worn. My dropper moved unnervingly side to side, my handlebar grip-bolts had rounded and were able to move up and down, as did my light mounts. My grips were the only thing to give out, one grip coming loose in my hand but bodgeable with some electrical tape and foam (which still remains a month on!)

Any practical planning went straight out of the window before day one was over. Setting off into a deluge, the storms rolled through all day as we jostled our way south into Croatia, heads down and saturated over each forested climb, disoriented and discombobulated. I was sad and wet, and not conditioned for massive days. I didn’t have the motivation to carry on riding into the night’s storms, getting my sleep kit wet, and waking up in the dark to put on wet kit and ride out into the continuing rain. This wasn’t about playing the long game, I just knew that my resilience was so low coming into this event that I would probably scratch if I suffered too much. I needed to ride myself well. So at 7pm I found a hotel at the first major village.

Having arrived in the top 20, I quickly found myself between 45th and 83rd, with the big mid-pack all finding hotels in the vicinity. I had lucked out and had both a tumble dryer and a wood-burning stove. After a hot shower and meal I dried my shoes and hydration vest by a roaring fire as thunder rolled overhead. But a race is no time for relaxing. I was plagued by doubt. Had I thrown it all away? My partner Lee offered sage advice - she said this rest would pay me back. And she was absolutely right. I woke at 3am to heavy rain and thunder. So I dozed until 4 and forced myself out into the grey morning. Lee had also told me she had Covid. So I spent the whole climb focussing on how I must also have Covid. My chest was tight, I had a cough. And, wow, I was so slow. Covid was the obvious cause and also the most brilliant and legitimate reason to stop riding.

My fantasising about which Croatian island I would choose for my convalescence was interrupted by a massive shaggy creature loping across my path. I made eye contact with the bear and it disappeared into the thick forest almost as quickly as I realised what had happened. I instinctually began to sing Adele’s greatest hits as I absorbed this special moment. Then I began to consider how a mild scrape with a bear would also be a legitimate reason to stop having to race.

Later that morning I began to pass other riders. Nearly all of them had experienced varying levels of discomfort and trauma from high, wet, short camps and I felt buoyed by my early night. It’s amazing how passing riders makes you go from feeling slow and weak to strong and capable. As the terrain gave way to faster rolling, undulating tracks I began to feel stronger and realise I probably didn’t have Covid after all.

My approach felt unhinged and shambolic. I was driven by something that I wasn’t entirely in control of, governed by how I was feeling in the moment rather than a particular race strategy or focus. Sometimes I followed my GPX efficiently and sometimes I took every opportunity to pause . Since my head wasn’t fully in the race, my stops were incredibly inefficient. When I took a hotel I would spend hours cleaning myself and my clothes, chatting to loved ones, and making tea so that even though I'd be stopped for 7 or 8 hours I was still only sleeping for four. I had a few 20-22 hour days, but I had more 15 hour days (which is very inefficient if you’re being competitive). I didn’t back myself or my level of fitness during the event. I kept telling myself that I was just doing the best I could at the time. But as the race went on I began to realise that although it felt chaotic, I was drawing on self-knowledge and prior experience and I was tiring less than other riders. I managed to climb from around 60th to 9th over the course of the race.

Entering Montenegro was the beginning of a long crescendo. Quite literally, it began with a relentlessly gruelling tarmac climb which continued to undulate toward the Durmitor National Park while I wondered how I was ever going to get through its towering peaks. Steep, grassy track then gave way to one of Montenegro’s iconic panoramic road climbs which made relatively easy miles in the early evening. I stopped early in the ski-town of Zabljak alongside the young Italian pair who had steamrolled past me earlier that day. I didn’t feel equipped to bivvy high at 1900m that night knowing how big the final day was going to be and how tired I was so I found accommodation (which turned out to be a bit of a farce - being taken away from the place i had booked to another flat below someone’s mothers house which had neither wifi nor hot water). With 6 of us in Zabljak, places 8-13 were for the taking and I was finally feeling determined.

At 3:45am I rode out into the freezing fog that had settled in the dips of the high plain and curled my way through tiny hut settlements nestled in knolls before dropping down to Kolasin. Determination gave way to desperation. I sat on the road, exhausted, waiting to be caught. The end felt so far away and the next mountain section would take at least 6 hours. Obviously the only way to finish was to move, and messages from friends got me rolling again. I meandered through the long last section of Durmitor. It was absolutely breathtaking, but each sharp climb brought me almost to my knees. I looked back and saw a tanned figure in red lycra charging toward me. Mateusz and I had seen each other a few days before. He was exhausted from sleep deprivation and moving very slowly. After a 13 hour sleep he was revived and determined. He told me he had left Zabljak 2.5 hours after me as he sailed past. I watched him ride out of sight and hung my head. But an hour later he was still close by as we pushed up to a wind farm in each other’s vicinity.

Leaving Durmitor was bittersweet. I passed a woman whose creviced face belied a life in the mountains and who was probably much younger than she looked. She was sitting silently amongst her cows. I greeted her and she waved with enormous enthusiasm and I knew I was missing a precious opportunity to connect with someone. But I had finally found my racing appetite and felt hunted by the riders behind me so I charged onwards, forming a commitment to myself to return one day without an agenda. I hit tarmac and descended with the speed and elegance of Tom Pidcock on that descent in the TdF in 2023. I rode harder than I have ever ridden (not necessarily faster!) stopping at a roadside kiosk in Niksic for ice-cream, coke, water, and juice before setting out on a 70km tempo ride to the finish. I was still expecting the Italian pair to catch me, but I was riding so hard that I almost caught Mateusz who finished only 5 minutes ahead!

I finished in 6d15h, in 9th place and 1st woman overall. My patched shorts were giving way, my socks were for the bin, and the deep cracks formed in my chapped lips had become filled with molten chocolate from the jaffa cakes that got me from Niksic to Risan. I was at least a day slower than last year’s fastest woman Peggy Maranova, something I was acutely aware of during the race. But having moved through all the emotions and mental states of the previous days I felt immensely proud to have finished so strong.

The TransBalkan Race should be on every bikepacker’s list - no matter how fast or how competitive. A route designed and perfected by a couple whose curiosity for their neighbouring countries were piqued. I also feel it’s a race where women stand to do very well - despite low numbers this year. Research suggests women, particularly older women, draw on greater self-knowledge which means we are more likely to ride within ourselves than younger men. Racing sensibly tends to pay off on a long and arduous course and I’d be happy to chat to any interested women and allay any fears.

Words by Alice Lemkes (@lemkiss)

All photos credit to Andrea Securo @andreasecuro, Beatrice Berlanda @beatriceberla, Luca Petrinka @exploro.cc , and Nils Laenger @nils_laengner -Trans Balkan Race