Basajaun is, as you’d expect for something named after the mythical guardian of the Basque Country’s most remote forests, a 760 km gravel race that’s chock-a-block with challenges.

We reached the town around midnight, stopping at the first bar that was open. Faster riders had already passed through so there wasn’t much food left, but the kind waitress gave us a milky coffee and a sobao, a regional sweet bread. Judging by the other sleepy riders that we spotted, it was a good place to take a proper rest, so we grabbed 90 minutes of sleep between 01:00–02.30 before deciding to push on.

The sun was just starting to come up as we bedded down for about an hour on a bench in a rest area at the entrance to the town. We’d barely done any distance since the last stop, but the fatigue had set in, and this felt necessary. 

Mélida was the last town before crossing the semi-desert of the Bardenas Reales. It was 4:00 p.m. and the sun was beating down. Our bike computers told us that the mercury was above 40º C. We decided to lie down until 19:00, finding a rare bit of shade in a park and waiting for the sun go down before entering the desert. This was one of the best decisions we made – not only because we avoided the suffocating heat that caused another rider to be helicoptered out of the desert due to heat stroke, but because we enjoyed one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever witnessed.

We slept from 03:00 to 06:00 in the arcades of the town square. The real reason for this stop wasn’t necessarily fatigue – although we were definitely feeling it by now – but it was more down to the need to take off our shorts after 43 hours on the saddle.

We finished Basajaun as the first mixed pair in 74 hours, with a moving time of 48h 50m and an average speed of 16km/h. Only two hours slower than expected, the 3rd pair overall, and Virginia was the first woman to cross the finish line. Like any ultra-distance event, the biggest competitor at Basajaun is yourself, but I have to admit that I’m pretty proud of this result – we rode solidly throughout, taking care not to go too far into the red on the climbs or taking too many risks on the descents. The strategy worked as neither our bikes nor our bodies broke down.

I left Basajaun richer from the experience – and I’m not just referring to the finisher’s medal and map, but with a new friend. After three days in survival mode, your bond with your teammate becomes incredibly strong, no matter well you know them to begin with.

Writing this piece ten days after finishing the race, I can still feel the numbness in several fingers, but I have managed to forget the pain in my ass, the heat, the exhaustion of the hike-a-bike sections, the leg pain, the chill that descends on you just before dawn, the thirst, perpetual hunger, and sleep deprivation... Luckily I still remember the sunset in Bardenas Reales, the conversations with riders from all over the world, and the satisfaction of crossing the line with Virginia at the end...