About Dorian
653 km
38:47 h
Recent Activity
The words pass at breakneck speed, as do the kilometers. Nothing goes right anymore, and everything comes back. Pain, pleasure, desire and apprehension. Tonight the sun sets on our day, on our race, on our first time. In the distance, over there on the horizon, the island of Ouessant seems to float between
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The sand, the water, the sky, and the road that unfolds, a tongue of concrete that licks our wounds, winds between the viewpoints, and seems to defy the waves and the dunes.
The photos are beautiful, but they are nothing when you have been there. To smell this air, to taste this spray, to feel something
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Short step, but quadriceps in distress. The rocks are getting bigger, and our eyes sense the unforgettable coming.
These beaches are beautiful. These rocks are big. The visions follow one another and transform the road into a rail, on which we slide according to the winds and the landscapes. Pain goes away, beauty wins.
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Here we are.
The moment when the count becomes a countdown, where each kilometer is not to be done, but more to be done.
Our first last day.
The miraculous energy rush of yesterday is no more: today, everything seems heavier, longer, more, more.
But the coast is coming back. And with it, the smell of the
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And this last segment. What injustice is this end which refuses to come alone.
The road is long, the legs are tired, but it's worth it. Because after this climb, after this descent, and after those after that, it will be the end of Day 3. And the beginning of the end. The beginning of the moment when
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It is an understatement to say that the crossing is joyful. I try to photograph faces, I feel like I'm taking too many and I realize I've taken too few.
Our hours on the island are outside of racing as well as outside of time. Naked, level, empty, so small and so alone, Ouessant taunts the raging ocean
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