Racing 1,000km taught me cucumbers are the best cycling food, to always take two waterproof jackets and much more

Essential lessons from Norway's Bright Midnight ultra gravel race

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By Robyn Furtado

Published: August 16, 2023 at 6:00 pm

This July, I raced my first ever ultra race, Bright Midnight – a 1,000km gravel event round the north of Norway.

Though in its first year, Bright Midnight is a premium event, taking you across some of the world’s most stunning scenery, dreamy gravel roads, and 16,000 metres of mountainous ascent.

This was my first foray into an ultra-endurance event of any kind, and I was struck by how different it was from other forms of cycle racing.

Here are a few of the things I learnt as I pedalled around my first ultra race.

Agonising over what kit to use is all part of the ultra experience, but there are two things I’d recommend against.

Firstly, do not, under any circumstances, use kit you’ve never used before.

Even if you think it’s the best thing you have ever seen, if you haven’t tested it out, there is a strong chance it will not work as you expected.

One of my fellow riders in Bright Midnight used a pair of gravel shoes he wasn’t used to – and they were unfortunately slightly too big. Over hundreds of kilometres, it put extra strain on his Achilles and ankles, causing them to swell up. This was incredibly painful and made walking sections almost impossible. That puts you in scratch territory.

On the other hand, don’t do what I did either, and use ‘old faithful’ kit. I took along an Apidura burrito bag, and some Ale bibshorts, both of which I had used many times over the last few years. I took them because I knew they worked, and were reliable.

However, they’re both a bit knackered. The strain of extended use at Bright Midnight meant the burrito bag ceased to be waterproof, and my shorts didn’t help with saddle sores… I will bear the mental and physical scars of that one for a while.

Bringing two waterproof jackets will seem like overkill until you’ve ridden for 10 hours in the pouring rain. Then, having a spare jacket suddenly makes the whole experience bearable.

I layered my jackets up, one on top of the other, and ended up staying mostly dry and warm. More importantly, I didn’t feel miserable.

Before setting out on the Bright Midnight, I spent hours poring over the route map to create a full itinerary for the week. I divided the route into different-length options, with bailouts and daily distances measured.

I worked out every mountain hut, hotel and campground I could sleep in, starred all of the supermarkets and water stations to refuel at, and made sure I carried enough food and clothes for bad weather, mechanicals and unexpected stops.

This was perhaps over the top, but did mean I had a fixed plan in my head each day, which really helped with keeping my focus.

It also meant that, during a 1am swampy hike-a-bike effort in the pouring rain, I knew there was a a bailout mountain hut to dry out and recharge for a few hours. This was a spot where a few other people scratched because they were so miserable and cold – so the preparation was very useful.

I was a little shy to share my dot number, since I knew I was going to be riding slowly, and I thought I’d probably be in last place. However, I hadn’t banked on the fact that, to your non-ultra friends, what you are doing is incredible.

To them, riding 170km a day is nothing short of miraculous (even if you are cycling at 4mph).

It was a huge boost in low moments to receive their messages of encouragement. My family and friends loved coming on the journey too, watching my dot move along the fjords, Googling places I was visiting, and texting each other updates like it was the world’s slowest football match.

Unsurprisingly, it’s easy to make friends in an ultra race. Riding along chatting is a great way to pass time, meet new people and get through difficult moments.

I personally wouldn’t have got through a mechanical without the good-natured help of another rider, stopping to help bash my chain out from where it had got wedged behind my hub with a knife and a big rock.

Despite saying this, there is an incentive to avoid what I call ‘Domino Faff’.

This is when you are riding with a group of riders, and one of you might stop to adjust a bag… and then someone else suddenly needs to pump up their tyres… and then someone else needs to eat something… and all of a sudden, it’s been 20 minutes faffing instead of riding.

In an ultra race, it’s perfectly fine to ride at your own pace, say a polite “see you on the road” and continue on rather than stopping with your new friends. It is a race, after all.

Riding for 15+ hours a day means you need to eat. A lot.

I unfortunately got sunstroke on day one, and spent around 350km unable to eat anything without throwing it back up. I spent the rest of the 1,000km chasing calories and never quite catching up.

The most successful method of fuelling your ride I observed was having a top tube bag or open handlebar pouch with easy-to-eat food readily available (my choice was an alluring mixture of nuts, Haribo sweets and Babybels). You can snack on these as you pedal, and then carry energy bars, energy gels and sandwiches for more substantial meals in your jersey pockets.

For me, it was also worth carrying a small stove and camp meal to eat when I stopped at night – you’re likely too late or too remote to have food provided or to buy.

Likewise, I found carrying a hydration pack was the easiest way to have water easily accessible to drink as I rode.

On that note, if you want to avoid a squidgy, slightly brown mess in your shorts pocket or bikepacking bags, don’t bother with bananas. Instead, try cucumbers.

They last ages, don’t really bruise, offer something green and crunchy in the vast wasteland of beige food and sweets that you end up eating over a long bikepacking trip, and they are quite refreshing. Game changer.

I definitely had some low moments over the course of the race – be that boredom, bonking, exhaustion, getting soaked to the skin or even just loneliness, it’s something every rider will have to deal with. Over such a long distance, the ultra race is a mental test as much as a physical test.

Make sure you expect it, prepare for it with distractions, maybe even embrace it – after all, it’s meant to be a difficult event.

My fail-safe option was to stop, have some sugar and soak in the scenery around me. It was always beautiful, and a more interesting experience than sitting in the office or at home – a thought that always cheered me up.

Okay, so it is of course still a race, and if you’re in the top 10 that’s very impressive… but in my opinion, the ultra is where rankings matter least.

In fact, the person who staggers over the line last gets as big a cheer as the person who gets there first. They are more likely to have struggled with mechanicals, injury, illness, bad weather and many more hours on the bike. Their achievement is just as impressive as the leader’s feat of endurance.

Sofiane Sehili raced the Bright Midnight in 52 hours, not sleeping at all, while the rest of us battled on for another few days and double that time to make it to the finish line.

Over such a long time and distance, much of the ride comes down to luck. Even people who are speeding off at the front can ride into unforeseen problems and scratch. So I wouldn’t obsess over where you are in the rankings during the race. Anything can happen.

Traditionally, the ultra race is portrayed as something of a sufferfest, an event that’s only for those who are ready for struggle, sleeplessness and pain.

However, there has been quite some push-back in the bikepacking community at this mentality, and I’d agree with them.

Unless you are a paid professional, this event is going to take up some of your precious annual leave, and it’s going to take at least a few days, so you might as well enjoy yourself along the way.

If I hadn’t made a point of doing things I enjoyed as well as racing, I would not have made it to the end. These included making sure I slept a few hours each night, stopping to take photos at beautiful places, trying Norwegian baked goods at bakeries, and chatting to locals about the young elk running around their field.

This is not the fastest option of course, but it does keep your mental health in a happy place, and ultimately that will carry you to the end just as well as not sleeping and chewing bars for 90 hours straight.

Senior videographer

Robyn Furtado is one of the videographers for BikeRadar’s Youtube channel. Robyn is mostly found riding gravel bikes or mountain bikes, while seeking out Bristol’s muddiest trails. She has been riding bikes all her life but really fell in love with cycling after riding the Pacific Coast Trail, from Vancouver to Mexico, back in 2016. Since then, Robyn has been bikepacking and cycle touring on numerous long-distance trips, across Europe, New Zealand and the UK. Her main cycling philosophy is: if somewhere exists, you can probably cycle to it (given enough time and determination, anyway). Robyn has previously worked as a photographer and videographer for Evans Cycles. As well as being a videographer, she is also a contributor to BikeRadar.com and can be found in front of the camera as one of our video presenters.

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