For several years the MB Race has been billing itself as "the world's toughest MTB race". That seemed like quite a claim given that their longest event was only 140km. For the 10th edition they decided to celebrate by creating the MB Ultime at 230km with 11,000m vertical. Could this really be the world's toughest MTB race?
Back in January Xavier Corin-Mick contacted me to propose forming a pair to race this event. Xav is notorious for being one of the strongest and most dedicated local cyclists, so it was with more than a little trepidation that I accepted his offer and we got on with submitting our application.
First up the organisers wanted to know about my palmares. This was to ensure that they wouldn't be sending anyone out onto the course who would be a liability to themselves and a burden on the emergency services. This was a bit of a wake-up call and made me think about whether I was up to the challenge. While none of the events I have done before were really in the same category (more bikepacking than Ultra-XC) and none of them were very recent they seemed to be satisfied with my 8th place in the Tour Divide back in 2016 and a win in the Highland Trail back in 2015.
Times have changed since those days and I now have two children under 3, so getting out for huge training rides is not as easy as it once was.
Training involved riding the fat-bike as much as possible during the winter, which seeing as I live in Chamonix is the only type of riding that can be done locally while the snow is on the ground. Once it finally melted in late March I was able to get the proper bike out and start some more adventurous rides.
Even without the snow I was pretty constrained by the time available and the general fatigue that life as a parent of young children can bring. I didn't do anywhere near as much training as I would have liked, but took my chances when the opportunity arose.
As the months rolled by the race date approached and I started thinking about conditions. In the woods around my home there is so little topsoil (due to having been glaciated only a few hundred years ago) that the trails can dry in less than 24 hours during spring and early summer. This is not so for the Aravis and Beaufortain ranges which were to form the route for the race and are home to proper mud when the weather is damp. As July progressed with rain almost every day it became obvious that the trails were not going to be dry and dusty. The 48 hours leading up to the start of the race put the final touches to the trail conditions with almost continuous rain.
As we prepared to start the race it was still raining, but while exchanging nervous greetings with other riders we noted that the rain had eased and it practically stopped before the 10am start. Looking around the other riders I noticed that everyone else seemed to have brought a super lightweight xc race bike - mostly full suspension but with some hardtails as well. My 14kg enduro bike with 2kg of tools, food and spare clothes strapped to it was starting to look rather sturdy by comparison when Xav pointed out someone who had brought a Rocky Mountain fat bike. This reassured me that I didn't have the heaviest bike on the start line after all, only the second heaviest.
Finally, after a briefing from the organisers 37 pairs set off to begin what they told us was not a race but an adventure.
I had printed off the route profile and sellotaped it to my top-tube so I could remind myself what was coming next at any point in the race. The first few kilometres showed a steady climb and this turned out to be mostly rideable but with a few inevitable pushing sections when bottlenecks caused the riders ahead to bunch up too much.
Xav had told me that I was in charge of setting the pace so that we didn't set off too fast and blow ourselves up early on. I was definitely feeling pretty steady and while it was frustrating to watch other riders pass me and pull away, I kept repeating my mantra for the opening section "let them go!". I think Xav found this mentally tough as he is naturally an extremely competitive rider (witness the ongoing tussle over a Strava KOM on a local climb that has become some kind of grudge match with another local rider).
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| Onto the first descent |
The top of the first big climb brought us into thick mist and this was the point that some professional photographers had picked to take photos of the riders coming through. The shots they got were quite dramatic as we whooshed through the clouds, but I think a backdrop of an alpine vista would have been more appealing for most riders they were trying to sell their photos to.
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| Xav railing the berm |
We plummeted down steep trail with Xav a short distance ahead until suddenly he stopped and shouted "off route!". Nightmare - we had overshot a junction by a few hundred metres and had to push back up the steep slope. As we did this more riders who had made the same error caught up with us and turned round. When we finally got back to the junction there were about a dozen riders who had been behind us negotiating the waterfall crossing to get onto the next bit of the descent. We were then stuck behind these riders down the next steep section until we finally got out onto the road at the bottom.
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| Thumbs up! (pic Olly Bowman) |
My colleagues Emma and Janine along with Emma's daughter Sophie had dug out a cow-bell and were waiting at the bottom of this hill. They were somewhat confused why riders were coming from two different directions as evidently some others had missed the turn and not corrected their mistake.
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| Into the sunshine |
The next climb began gently, but quickly ramped up as we passed through les Contamines. Here the organisers had taken the interesting decision to send us up a steep, unrideable footpath instead of the nicely graded zig-zag 4x4 track that went to the same place. Rustic German swear words issued from a fellow bike-pusher who evidently did not appreciate this route choice.
Once the summit of the Col Joly was reached, we turned onto a section of trail that Xav had warned me was a cow path and practically all unrideable. In the dry there would have been a few fun sections but the clay like mud ensured there were none. This mostly traversing section of 6km took over an hour to complete and was really awkward. Some parts were on slippery shale rocks that sloped towards serious drops. Not a place to be teetering around in stiff-soled biking shoes while trying to prevent an overloaded bike from taking off down the mountainside.
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| Another climb but still happy |
Happily the next part was a descent of over 1,100 metres on lovely swoopy forest trails which led us to the first feed station at Beaufort. Biscuits, cheese and saucisson sec were gobbled rapidly before we were back outside to find that our bikes had been hosed clean of mud while we were eating. A quick squirt of chain lube and we were back on the bikes and climbing a road into the Beaufortain massif. An hour and a half of climbing led to a really interesting descent through a very steep forest. The trail was barely more than a tyre's width in many places and some of the switchbacks required some serious commitment (or for a couple of them a strategy of dismounting and turning the bike around).
Another long climb with a short burst of descent in the middle led us into a high alpage where the 4x4 track we had been following abruptly stopped. It was not easy to see where the route would go next as there was a band of cliffs above us. I was starting to get an insight into the warped mind of the course designer so it did not surprise me too much when I looked at the GPS screen to see that the route went straight up. Half an hour with the bike on my shoulder finally led to easier slopes and then the ridge of the Roche Parstire. Xav had gained a bit of a lead and was sitting shivering at the side of the trail. The misty summit was at 2,108m - the high-point of the whole route and it was 6 degrees Celsius. Not somewhere to hang about.
As we started to descend there were some course marshals (practically the first ones we had seen) who instructed us not to try and ride the next section - it was soon apparent why as the slippery rocks led to a right angle turn which would have been hard to make on the damp stone and the penalty for failure would have been a 5 metre drop onto the boulders below.
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| Muddy water bottle (pic Olly Bowman) |
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| Team Axiom Vert CHX - photo by Olly Bowman |
As we left Beaufort it was going dark and the next section was another long road climb towards les Saisies - the halfway point and a designated "base de vie" where there might be a chance of a lie down. As the stars came out we slowly worked our way up the hill and enjoyed the cool night air and the steady rhythm of turning the pedals. It wasn't to be all road, however and a quick dive through some woods led to a peat bog which ensured our riding shoes were nicely topped up with cold water as we pushed through the ankle-deep puddles. Emerging blinking into the floodlights of the centre sportif in les Saisies we were happy to have hit the half-way point.
After washing our bikes (les Saisies has a pleasingly palindromic name, but apparently no locals keen to volunteer to wash bikes at 1am) we were treated to a hot shower and a plate of pasta before having a lie down on rather firm gym mats. I had wrongly assumed there would be some kind of blankets and not put any warm clothes in the drop-bag that had been sent to Saisies, so all I could do was put on all my warm clothes. Fortunately I was tired enough to fall asleep pretty quickly, but I woke up less than half an hour later feeling cold. Xav had not slept and was keen to get going again. There was no question of me falling asleep again, so we quickly got ready and headed out into the darkness.
The next section was uphill so happily we had a chance to get some warmth into our muscles as we climbed up to the Chard du Beurre. This led into repeated descents, mostly pretty interesting but not too technical, followed by relatively short (300 metre vertical) climbs. By the fifth of these climbs I was starting to feel like we were going in ever-decreasing circles through the night, but to save my sanity the blue tint of the sky revealed that dawn was not far away.
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| Alpine hamlet (pic Olly Bowman) |
Quickly my sanity was pushed to the brink again - the route dropped us into a steep sided gorge with a bridge over a torrent at the bottom. The only way out was a carry up a steep rocky slippery path. Halfway up this Xav shouted out that he thought we were off route again! Please no! Thankfully it was a case of poor GPS signal in the tree filled gorge causing his computer to have a 'moment'.
At about 6.30am we cruised into the village of Crest-Voland, where I suddenly realised that the discombobulation of pedalling through the darkness was over and that whatever happened the ride would be over at some point today. My body was in survival mode, but in my mind I was sure we could make it to the finish well before the 10pm time limit.
The next steep descent was what Xav had started to refer to as an "MB race special". This was a trail that had almost certainly seen fewer than a dozen pairs of mountain bike tyres in the last 6 months and while interesting to ride was a step beyond my capabilities in my fatigued state. The local knowledge of the organisers to find and include this kind of trail is impressive to say the least!
The bottom of this trail crossed the Arly river and the main road to Albertville, but our way did not spend more than 50 metres on the road before we came to a very well-marked turning to go up into some steep forest. The organisers evidently wanted us to be very sure that this was the right way to go because anyone seeing the forest would have immediately had their doubts. The trail on the ground was pretty much non-existent and after the initial scramble away from the road was blocked by three large fallen tree trunks. The almost metre-thick trunks were at an angle of 45 degrees, so climbing over them wasn't an option as it would have resulted in sliding off down the slope. Under them was the only way to go, but the gap was nowhere near as wide as my 780mm handlebars. By crawling myself through and then grabbing the bike by the stem I was able to drag it under first one tree, then another burying the end of the handlebars in the soil as I went. With this obstacle dispatched the rest of the climb was a standard-issue carry up stupidly steep hillside of the type we were now well used to.
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| Xav crushing yet another climb (pic Olly Bowman) |
With great relief we burst out of the trees into a meadow which led to a paved road that would take us up the rest of this 900m climb to the Col de l'Arpettaz where Xav's wife Catherine was waiting for us. Breakfast of soup with pasta in it and a couple of cups of cola restored our spirits if not our bodies. Soon we were ready for the next section which rolled along the 4x4 track of the route de la soif (road of thirst) across the Col des Aravis and along the eastern side of the Aravis range. This section was without any shade at all, but there was no danger of thirst as the recent rain had kept the mountain streams babbling down the mountainside.
The next major obstacle was the Col du Niard, where the nice 4x4 track we had followed for 30km ran out and we started pushing our bikes up a steep slope. This gradually got steeper until carrying the bike was again the only feasible option, even if it wasn't an easy one. Part way up this section I picked up my bike for a steep pitch and took a step up onto the slope. My shoe lost grip and I fell forward, catching my wrist on a rock as I hit the ground. I shouldered the bike again, bleeding but not broken and stepped up - to almost the same result. This time the bike landed right on top of me and I struggled to wriggle out from under it. Finally at the third attempt I managed to scrabble my way up the greasy shale, and eventually the top of the col.
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| Xav singletrack descent (pic Olly Bowman) |
A rapid descent on gravel tracks followed by a bike-drag through a lumpy cow pasture led to the final feed station at the Refuge du Tornieux. A first-aid crew had been stationed here to check on the status of any arrivals and they seemed to be taking more of an interest in my health than I was comfortable with. They kept asking if I was alright and telling me that I looked rather pale. I tried to reassure them that I was just a bit tired but it took a few fairly determined repetitions before they got the message "thanks for your concern but I'm quite alright". I hadn't expected to expend so much energy on rebuffing the attentions of the first-aiders. They did manage to help Xav by offering him some ointment that was more effective than the sun-screen he had resorted to using instead of chamois cream...
Leaving the last feed station, it seemed improbable that the course could maintain the same level of hardship in the last 26km to the finish, but the course designers were not done with us yet. For the penultimate climb (a mere 300 metres) they sent us up yet another steep, rooty forest footpath which involved a lot of pushing and virtually no riding. A short descent inevitably led to another climb, but I felt no worries, as even though this was a 600 metre climb it seemed insignificant, given we had already climbed 10,000 metres. It started fairly easily, zig-zagging up a gravel road but gradually ramped up to a gradient where pushing became inevitable. This final climb was also part of the course for the riders on the 140km "Ultra" version of the race. Some of them realised we were not in the same race as them and gave us words of encouragement which were much needed.
The final sting in the tail was a push through another bog and then up a steep, muddy path but all was quickly forgiven as this led to the euphoria of the Col de Jaillet - we could, at long last, say "it's all downhill from here". The last descent was made up of some fairly mellow trails that normally see a lot of traffic from the riders using the Megeve lifts. Xav was absolutely flying in spite of the fact that his rear shock had got stuck in locked out mode at some point. I was just holding on for dear life and trying not to get left too far behind. We finally dropped onto tarmac and swooped down the lanes that led to the finish area. As we rolled towards the line a wave of emotion hit me and I felt choked-up with tears. I was so relieved to have finished and so exhausted - physically and mentally. What a ride.
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| Bloody hell we made it! Photo by Olly Bowman |
My wife, Sarah and children Aurora and Patrick were there to greet us at the finish. I was so happy to see them and to finally be able to put the bike down knowing I would not have to get on it again.
We stood on the finishing ramp for photos and the commentators explained to the crowd what we had just done. 5th overall out of 37 teams that started. A beer was handed to me and my happiness was complete.
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| Me (pic Olly Bowman) |
It turns out only one team finished behind us. Another two dropped out at the final feed station, only 26km from the finish which seems unbelievable having already covered over 200km. It looks like they would have been well within the overall time limit, so there must be another story there - maybe the persuasive powers of the first-aid crew did for them and they let themselves be convinced that it really wasn't a good idea to carry on.
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| Xav (pic Olly Bowman) |
So, to loop back to the question I posed at the start, is it really the toughest MTB race in the world? With an 84% drop out rate for this, the only edition held so far, it certainly must be up there. If you exclude stage races, such as the Cape Epic and Iron Bike Italy, and bikepacking events, such as the Tour Divide and Iditarod Trail, I haven't been able to find anything of comparable elevation gain. Even if you count the 4,350km Tour Divide then the total amount of pushing/carrying is much less than the amount in the MB Ultime (unless you run into deep snow, or sticky mud like I had in Montana). In terms of technical descending there is hardly any in the Tour Divide (the same goes for the Cape Epic from what I've heard). On the other hand, the Iditarod Trail's challenge really lies in surviving the cold and the wilderness rather than riding bikes.
Maybe the MB Ultime really is the world's toughest mountain bike race...
