Chasing Peaks. Enduring Troughs. 1.2

Isolation | Solidarity

The Urbasa mountain range is a plateau located in the west of Navarra sitting at an average altitude of 1,000 m. This great upland drops abruptly to the north and south and extends with a similar height to the east and west. It represents a geomorphological and climatic border between the Atlantic and Alpine (Pyrenees) to the north and the Mediterranean to the south. The wet winds of the Atlantic coast and the massive area of beech keeps the humidity high in this area. The name Urbasa means 'wet forest' in Basque (Ur means 'water' and basa 'forest'). The Urbasa plateau will be acceded through the Errigoiti pass, a small canyon that makes its way through the cliffs surrounded by two small waterfalls. It’s rideable until the last 300 meters, where there are two little creeks that need to be crossed. This represents our entry to the limit of Urbasa Plateau.

I’m fine riding on my own. In fact at times I actively seek it and enjoy it. The monotony of early morning College Road hill repeats is a good test of whether you are content with your own company. Long distance cycling calls for an ability to sustain prolonged moments of silence, just your thoughts for company.

8am Sunday 27th July 2025, Vitoria Gastiez, The Basqque Country. Start line for Basajaun 2025. Basajaun is an unassisted ultra gravel cycling race consisting of 350 solo and paired riders taking in the forests and arid lands that adorn the edge of The Basque Country. It’s touted (alongside Badlands, which I completed the previous September) as ‘the ultimate unassisted gravel race in Europe’ of which 70% of the track being off road. For me, it was the promise of the contrast between the green of the forests, the arid plains and deserts teamed with the mountains of both the Pyrenees and Sierra de la Demanda. A diverse continental climate and riding at altitudes of over 2,000m. The diversity of climate and terrain added to the challenge by way of on top kit requirements.

Whilst isolation was guaranteed for the race leaders, for those mid pack cyclists, the diverse mix of riders you would meet along the route that was draw in itself. And if this race was anything like Badlands, I knew and looked forward to the diverse characters and conversation you’d have en route.

‘Basajaun’ is rooted in Basque mythology, meaning ‘Lord of the Forest’, a large, hairy, human like creature that is said to be a protector of the forest, guiding shepherds to potential dangers for his flock.

Myth or not, I didn’t want to take any chances. The idea of cycling alone at night was not something I looked forward to and so I was lucky that the pull of the ultra cycling race circuit was ‘sticky’ meaning you could and did end up recognising some of the same faces from previous races. There was R who took my only ‘non-selfie’ photo at Badlands. J who I met tucking into a plate of non descriptive meat and fried eggs half way down the descent from the observatory and a few others I didn’t know by name. Whilst everyone had their own true personal experience, there were shared stories.

The draw of repeated return is explored further later, but it’s great to bump into familiar faces, some of whom may have been instrumental to what made your previous race the experience that encouraged you to sign up to another.

We go again.

Basajaun was far less international than Badlands with a much higher percentage of Spanish riders making up the contingent. This was just the subject when I bumped into S. Whilst commenting on the so few British riders pulled to this race I had inadvertently found one. S was from South Devon, not the touristy North Devon that he was keen to point out. He later confessed to having a creamery down the road from him, so maybe stereotypes are for good reason.

I had learnt my lesson from Badlands. Nothing is open on a Sunday in Spain! And so with sandwiches (bagels, of course) sitting alongside what would become my ‘emergency’ vacume packed John West tuna salad I was as prepared as I could be to ride into the night.

Day one energy levels and the prospect of only poor sleep ahead, equated to making the most of the first day. Cue rain. Consistent warm rain. The sort of rain that was more of an annoyance. And so it was here I found myself with S with consensus being to crack on riding into the night.

The rain mixed with slippery ramped accents meant it was more economical to hike than ride into places. Whilst this slowed pace down considerably, it importantly reserved energy. Solidarity behind a common cause drove us through to what ended up being our first camp of the ride. A children’s playground. The children’s playground is arguably the most sought after, and eagerly battled sleeping place for the ultra cyclist. Late arrival and early departure not to mention the luxury of padded (if not bouncy) flooring provided reassurance this was a sound decision. And with the rain continuing, scoring the spot beneath the slide was definitely a win.

Day 1: 189km. 4,256m. 17hrs 14mins. Vitoria-Gasteiz to Arraitz-Orio.

Cyclists are cyclists. The ‘Good morning’, wave or smallest bow of the head when passing one of your own is more than good manners. It’s recognition that they’ve endured that hill, biked through the rain or simply endured continual road traffic.

Social Identity Theory (Tajfel & Turner, 1979) describes how individuals define themselves according to their peer groups. There is belonging, meaning and pride behind being part of a group of individuals with shared beliefs. And shared adversity or challenge amongst this group is a catalyst that forges even greater cohesion. Emile Durkheim in 1912 describes how Collective Effervescence driven by a heightened energy, emotion and a sense of unity amongst riders results in a transcendent state of solidarity. “We endured this together” is a powerful emotional glue for an unforgettable shared experience.