Mountain biking in Afghanistan: “We only have one life”

Everything’s different when you’re on your own

BIKE: Cedric, you’ve got quite a stately beard in the photos. Did you grow it for Afghanistan?

Cedric: No, I’ve been wearing it for three or four years. It’s kept short, though. But I’ve deliberately let it grow for Afghanistan. A beard is just the norm there.

Why Afghanistan?

Cedric: I wanted to go there because Afghanistan is one of the last countries where genuine discovery is still possible. You come across villages that hardly anyone from outside knows about. You see how people actually live. And the landscape is magnificent.

BIKE: But the sort of freedom we associate with remote mountainous regions doesn’t exist there.

Cedric: That’s true. You always feel as though you’re being watched. Even when you can’t see anyone.

BIKE: Why?

Cedric: Because at some point you’ll find yourself in areas about which nobody has any information. No reliable routes, no maps, no idea who lives there. And for the locals, a foreigner on a bike is a completely unusual sight. After 40 years of war, a stranger with a GPS could even be mistaken for a spy. On top of that, there are armed groups and landmines.

BIKE: You mentioned white, grey and black zones.

Cedric: The white areas are familiar and relatively safe. In the grey areas, things get confusing. In the black areas, you know practically nothing. And that’s exactly where it can get dangerous. You can’t just say: ‘I’m going to drive up this mountain now.’ The next Taliban checkpoint might not let you through. And if you go missing, no one will be able to look for you there.

BIKE: Even so, you dreamt of Afghanistan.

Cedric: That’s exactly why. It feels a bit like it used to, back when you could actually discover something.

BIKE: Did you ever feel threatened?

Cedric: Things were sometimes a bit strange with the Taliban. They can be friendly, but sometimes they also try to scare you. When that happens, you have to stay calm and show that you’re not afraid.

BIKE: And what about the locals?

Cedric: I was usually given a very warm welcome in the villages. In remote villages, a guest is something special. A stranger comes from far away – so people look after him.

32 kilos of adventure

BIKE: What sort of bike do you ride?

Cedric: A French Sun Shaman DC, a down-country bike. It weighs about twelve kilos, is sturdy yet still light enough for long climbs. It performs well both uphill and downhill. A good compromise.

BIKE: But with luggage, the system weighs around 32 kilos. Is it still fun?

Cedric: Yes. On the first day, it’s tough and feels strange. You can feel every kilo. After a day, your mind adjusts – and suddenly you’re riding as if it were a normal bike again. Of course, it gets technically more challenging. But that’s exactly why I go to the mountains. Main roads are boring, dirty and full of exhaust fumes for me.

BIKE: And nobody’s going to steal a bike like that from you?

Cedric: Not in the remote villages. I think it’s also to do with religion. Visitors and strangers enjoy special protection there.

BIKE: You even spent a few days out and about with the locals.

Cedric: Six days. That was an enormous help. They knew the culture, could translate – and on one occasion they probably saved my life. On my own, I might never have got out of that situation.

The passport and the next border

BIKE: Then you lost your passport in Bamiyan as well.

Cedric: Yes. I always had it in my hand when I got out of the taxi. Once, I left it lying between the seats. That evening, I realised it was gone. It was a nightmare: no passport, no easy way to leave the country.

BIKE: So?

Cedric: The next morning, I went looking for the taxi driver. I had a photo of him. Other drivers helped me ring him up. At first he said he didn’t have a passport. So I said: ‘Come here, I’ll have a look for myself.’ Forty-five minutes later, he opened the door – and there it was. Between the seats.

BIKE: What a relief.

Cedric: Huge. My friend in France was tracking my location throughout the journey. That night, we’d already been thinking about how to get me out of Afghanistan without a passport. I said to him: ‘Let’s have a look around first. If he’s still gone in four or five days’ time, we’ll think about it some more.’

BIKE: Did you take 50,000 photos on your trip?

Cedric: At the very least. I work with cameras and would also like to turn my travels into films and stories.

BIKE: So what’s next?

Cedric: Perhaps Iraq. It didn’t work out this year because of the war between the US and Iran. I didn’t want to end up in the line of fire. Next year I’d like to go there for Nowruz, the Persian New Year. Music, dancing, people in the mountains. A completely different picture of a country that we usually only know from the news.

BIKE: You do these adventures professionally. Can you make a living from it?

Cedric: It’s less about the money than about the experience. After all, we only have one life.

BIKE: That’s a good way to round things off.