A Series of Fortunate Events

/Issue 10

A Series of Fortunate Events

/5 minute read

Sometimes all it takes is a little faith in the universe. That, and some great people around you to encourage you through the hard bits. That’s what Liz Seabrook discovered when she undertook her first ever gravel bikepacking adventure, which happened to be the komoot Women’s Rally GranGuanche edition. In this issue of Notes from Outside, she shares the ups and downs of her ride (both literal and metaphorical), proving once again that behind every smiling summit shot there is frequently a bigger story – the tough climb, the self-doubt, the new narrative about what you are capable of and, most importantly, the discovery of what really makes an adventure worthwhile. To awesome adventure-buddies and diving into the unknown!

Catherine

Editor, Notes from Outside

My place on the first komoot Women’s Rally of 2023 popped up just when I needed it – I was riding into autumn for the first time and needed motivation to keep it up through winter. Island hopping along the GranGuanche route in the Canary Islands sounded ideal. I’d slated 2023 as my “year of sacking it all off,” and as someone who’d never ridden gravel and hated climbing, the ride had the right amount of recklessness to kickstart my carefree year. Unable to ride my skinny-tired road bike, I gave myself 24 hours to find a gravel bike or pull out. By my deadline, I had a bike, tubeless-ready wheels, other bits of necessary kit, and an offer to help me put it together. Thanks, universe.

My Franken-friend bike and I arrived in Lanzarote, nerves eased by Rescue Remedy and the knowledge that all there was left to do was ride. I had a place to stay with fellow Brit, Iona, but our third bed was empty after another rider didn’t show. Cue Millie Gibbons walking into my life; another gift from the universe, it would turn out.

The smooth tarmac of the first morning lulled me into a false sense of security. The pace was gentle and I slotted into the pack comfortably, until a quick turn onto a gravel ascent put me in new territory. I wasn’t ready for this! Ahead, another rider was walking. I caught up with Aurélie, who smiled and said, “there’s no point killing yourself on the first day, we’ve got all week.” It was what I needed to hear at that moment.

I dislike going uphill, but I’m yet to meet a downhill that hasn’t filled me with joy. I met my first gravel descent alone, so I went carefully. I felt a bit silly, surely I could go quicker? Behind me I heard a woop and the crunch of tyres, very quickly followed by all-round super cyclist and founder of the komoot Women’s Rally series, Lael Wilcox. She grinned at me as she and Rue smashed past, dust streaming behind them. I let go of my brakes and followed in their wake, smiling ear to ear.

After the dusty descent, I found my own pace and plodded along. Around 4pm, a café stacked with bikes came into view. I’d caught up for a very late lunch break! “The gravel ahead is mainly hike-a-bike – we’re taking the road now,” Sarah updated me as I said hello. No lunch then. We assembled into a 12-strong two-up bikepacking peloton racing to the 18:30 ferry, which would take us to the next island, Fuerteventura. I was tired and hungry, but morale was high and I was grateful to finish the island with company. At the port, a packet of crisps appeared in front of me, “we heard you needed these,” laughed one of the Gehrig twins. I was reunited with Millie, who I’d stick with for the rest of the week.

Fuerteventura in a word? Windy. Initially sheltered from a strong offshore wind, before long it began pummeling our sides, nudging us across the cliff edge path we were following. Next came the punishing reality of pushing headfirst into it as we turned inland. Cursing my 42T front chainring, which wasn’t giving me the spinny granny-gear I wanted, I ground the pedals slowly, teeth gritted. Soon, it became clear that my knee was not happy with the effort and began seizing. Sami stopped alongside me and asked, “are you ok?” I explained and like a cycling Spanish magician, she presented a resistance band and massage ball. “You need to do crab walks to activate your glutes. Keep the ball and use it when you stop.” My savior.

On the third island of our route, Gran Canaria, our next universal deliverance came. The day started out well as I powered up the initial hills to the foot of what felt like the mother of all climbs. A third of the way up, we found the rough stuff. Alternating pedaling and walking, we climbed higher towards the clouds until the clouds met us. Ten kilometers from the top the air was thick with rain and I wanted to give up. My legs were empty and we had nowhere to stay. I was soaked through and bivvying in the rain felt unsafe. Ping! “My friends are staying in Tejeda and have six beds free, does anyone need somewhere?” Millie pounced on Anja’s offer. We arrived, hypothermic and delirious, but hot tea, warm smiles, and cozy blankets revived us.

The next morning, wary of my struggles the day before, Millie and I headed out on the road to avoid the first bit of gravel, which took in a steep descent followed by an equally spicy (and now wet) ascent. Rejoining the route for a sweeping misty gravel descent, we felt at home in the mud. But we were both riding tubeless for the first time, so when Millie’s tyre went squidgy, we floundered. We tried spinning the wheel. I confidently suggested doing something with an anchovy (not a fish, but a sliver of sticky rubber to plug holes in tyres), though I didn’t know what. “You want a dynaplug,” laughed Beth who’d just appeared beside us, pulling one out and swiftly sealing the gash. Saved again!

Tenerife was the rally’s fourth island, and it sped by in a blur. Due to snow in the mountains, we stuck to the lowlands and the sunshine, arriving in Los Cristianos two days earlier than planned, which, to be honest, was also a blessing for me. I walked into the gelateria and promptly burst into tears. Happy to be done, to have made it, and to be hugged by my new riding buddy, without whom I might have given up. Help from the universe will get you a long way on a ride, but the friends you make along the way – Millie Gibbons in my case – who make you put some tunes on for a grueling climb, who don’t let you give up, and who stick with you day in and day out; these people are what get you across the line.

Editor’s note: Interested in the komoot Women’s Rallies? The second Slovenia edition takes place in September, and in November we’re heading to Arizona for the first komoot Women’s Rally in the USA.

Words and photos by Liz Seabrook

Liz Seabrook is a lifestyle and portrait photographer based in London, but working all over. She grew up in the countryside and tries to get out of the city to ride, hike, or swim as much as possible. Forever more in the camp of going slow and enjoying the journey, you’ll usually find Liz chatting away over chips or ruffling a dog’s ears at the back of a group rather than heading up the front of the pack.