Trans Nomad Enduro Race: An interview with Steffi Marth – “Once in a Lifetime”

90 starting places, an entry fee of around 1,600 euros, riding blind, plus sections where you have to carry your bike right into the nature reserve. Professional cyclist Steffi Marth took part in an enduro event in the Pyrenees that bore little resemblance to a normal race weekend. The days were long, the weather was poor, and the routes were kept secret. In this interview, she explains why she still says it was one of the most intense experiences of her career.

Interview with Steffi Marth: “Having done it was the coolest thing.”

Steffi, how did you come to take part in the race?

I was really keen to take part and said yes straight away because it just looked absolutely brilliant. I’d never really been to the Pyrenees before, only to the World Cup in Andorra. So the region was completely new to me. And after all the reports over the last few years, I thought: I’ve got to see this.

Places are limited, and it’s not exactly cheap either.

There are only 90 participants, and it’s not meant to get any bigger. We always ride and stay at the same hotel, which keeps things manageable. It’s fully booked anyway. And yes, it costs a fair bit. But looking back, I realise that special enduro events like this simply aren’t cheap. Nobody’s lining their pockets here; organising something like this is just a lot of work.

Is it worth the money? Is it something you have to do at least once?

For me, it’s a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ sort of thing because it’s so demanding. What’s more, there aren’t many multi-day enduro races of this scale left. I was used to paying 70 or 80 euros for a race. But do the maths: with the journey there and back, you’re away for almost a week. How much do you pay for a week’s package holiday? And in return, you get an incredible experience.

Almost half of the cyclists were on e-bikes. Is that the better choice?

Perhaps it’s a bit more comfortable. But there are loads of sections where you have to carry your bike. You ride trails in places where you wouldn’t normally ride – and in some cases aren’t even allowed to. One stage took us through a lunar landscape in a nature reserve. We had special permission and weren’t allowed to stray a single metre from the route. Sometimes we had to walk, and there are places you just can’t get up on your bike. You have to carry it or push it. With a heavy e-bike, that’s even more of a slog. That was pretty extreme.

The time is only recorded on the downhill sections.

That’s right. It’s very much about the elevation gain, which isn’t measured. Sure, as soon as you’ve got your chip and race number on, you ride fast. But for many, it’s all about the experience. They just want to get through it in one piece. And the whole thing is a blind ride, so you don’t know what’s coming up.

Do you like driving blind?

That creates more equality of opportunity. I’ve always raced blind anyway, because I’ve never had time to practise. I can never remember everything in detail either, even if I were to ride the course beforehand. At the start, they give you a rough idea of what the route’s like. But you still don’t know if there’s a tight bend coming up. And because it had rained heavily, the trails were even more challenging.

Do you have to be a good enduro rider to take part?

No. There were lots of amateur riders there, some of them older, who’d travelled from far away. I spoke to people from Québec, to English riders and to riders from Asia. There was a Mexican rider there who’d never ridden in the rain before. It was a really diverse field – not just semi-pros going flat out, but top riders taking part as well. That’s cool too, because you get to see where the benchmark lies when someone from the world’s elite is riding.

How is the organisation run?

That’s incredible. There’s roughly one organiser for every two riders. There are physiotherapists, mechanics and feed stations every day. The routes are freshly marked, set up and taken down every day. I had a long chat with the main organiser. He’s been out scouting the routes two months in advance. He walked up a remote trail 18 times to clear it. We spent three hours pushing our bikes up there. Everything is prepared by hand, without any heavy machinery. There are a few local trails, a bit like a bike park, just without a lift.

What was your highlight? And when did you think, ‘If only I hadn’t done that’?

Having pulled it off was the coolest thing. It was the most extreme thing I’ve ever done physically. On top of that, there was the content: I was still editing videos every evening. Some days I was in the saddle for eight hours straight without a break. I thought the Spaniards were laid-back and would sometimes set off ten minutes later. I was wrong – it was really stressful. On top of that, there were 7,000 metres of climbing, on a bio-enduro with super-soft tyres. After that, you still have to ride fast downhill. I did find myself wondering whether an e-bike wouldn’t have been a wiser choice. And then there was the rain. But it’s all the more brilliant when you’ve made it. The fact that I could keep up with the front runners gave me extra motivation.

What was the community like?

II rarely go anywhere where I don’t know anyone. But I know it’s worth it, because afterwards you end up with loads of new contacts. I’ve met lots of Germans I didn’t know before, because I’m not that deeply involved in the enduro scene. Many of them travelled on their own. The motorcycling scene is laid-back anyway, so you make friends quickly.

There was something else too: you didn’t get the feeling that anyone was lining their pockets. These people are passionate about mountain biking. They were fast and motivated, and didn’t want to shorten the routes even when it rained. The volunteers – I reckon there were 20 to 25 of them – do everything on a voluntary basis, from holding the flags to marking out the routes. Some of them work towards this event all year round. In terms of the community spirit, it was one of the most intense experiences of the last ten or twenty years.