Reflections from L’Esperit de Girona: Far Beyond Driven

Words by Richy Poynter, photos by L’esperit del Bikepacking

The L’Esperit de Girona is a grueling, multi-day ultra-endurance bikepacking event meticulously created and organized by James Hayden that weaves through the rugged, mountainous terrain around Girona, Catalonia, Spain. Spanning 730 kilometres with over 23,000 metres of elevation gain, it pushes riders to navigate remote off-road paths, hike-a-bike sections, steep climbs, and high altitudes while carrying their gear and resupplying along the way. With no official support and a high drop-out rate (only eight people have ever completed it), this event tests physical stamina, mental resilience, and the ability to endure long distances. Simply finishing is a victory.

• 
• 

Motivations

When James Hayden and others asked me why I signed up for L’Esperit de Girona, I couldn’t give a clear answer. Though I’ve been riding bikes for over 30 years and have raced in road, XC, and enduro disciplines, I had little experience bikepacking beyond a few road rides to overnight bunkhouses and a trip from Plymouth to Bristol. I don’t enjoy hike-a-bike, and having already faced enough challenges during my time in the Royal Marines—where I spent plenty of time sleeping under canvas or the stars—I didn’t feel the need to prove anything to myself or anyone else. So, why choose an event that would demand all this and more? I’ve struggled to understand my motivation fully, but something clicked when I discovered L’Esperit de Girona. I felt an immediate, inexplicable urge to enter and a drive to finish.

It’s Electric

Catalonia holds a special place in my heart. There’s something magical about the region. I’ve had the privilege of guiding several road cycling trips here, and each time, the landscape and people rewarded me tenfold for my efforts. The lesser-known roads never disappoint—beautiful ribbons of tarmac draped across the hills, offering an experience that borders on the spiritual. I craved that feeling again—that deep, near-religious immersion in a landscape alive with fierce
independence and culture.

I’m Broken

Redefining what is “hard” is necessary. For me, these types of challenges offer a perspective that is hard to find in civilian life. There’s no shortcut to natural endurance or resilience. In the moment, it demands everything. A singular focus. Long-term, it forges resilience, teaching you to stop sweating the small stuff and accept the dips in the trail. On the third night, I lifted and climbed with my bike through the dark, over trees and boulders, for hours. It nearly broke me mentally, but the worst was still ahead. After that section, I was looking forward to the descent for some recovery. It never came. Earlier that day, the cattle had been brought down the hill from the summer pastures, and with the previous day’s rain, the path had been churned into knee-deep mud and peppered with cow pats. I waded through the quagmire, temporarily lost both my shoes, and my bike wouldn’t move with all the mud packed around the wheels. Progress was agonizingly slow. It was a desperate situation—the tipping point. Either I pressed on and got myself out of this situation, and in time, it would be deposited as credit in the Bank of Mental Resilience, or I folded right here where I stood, and it was over. Keep. Moving. Forward.

As horrific as that experience was, getting through it gave me that reset of what ‘hard’ really is. There is no easy way to reset—you must gaze into the abyss. Finishing something like this is humbling. The mountains and terrain don’t care. They’re indifferent. You can’t beat them. You can only match them on that day, and when you look back, they’ll still be unmoved. The tension, knowing that any decision could change the outcome, brings you to the edge, where self-awareness becomes sharp and critical.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

Respect, Walk!

On more than one occasion, this challenge started to resemble Royal Marines training more than a bike ride. The overlap in that Venn diagram came dangerously close to being a complete circle on multiple occasions. On day four, I carried my bike up a scree slope to the route’s highest point—over 2,800 meters in the Pyrenees. It could have been 10-15 years ago when I was on exercise in the Mojave Desert or on operations in Afghanistan, hauling the main body of a .50-cal heavy machine gun up to a ridge line, shoulders screaming, the sun beating down. The only differences were the uniform and the things I carried, but everything else was the same. It was an uncomfortable familiarity.

L’Esperit de Girona stops being about how good you are at riding bikes. Physical and technical riding ability is essential but not enough to finish. At the start, the route will find your limits, no matter your physical shape. Being right on that edge, where those limits are tested beyond comfort, is where my reasoning for signing up began to make sense. It was about reaffirming that I still had what it takes—the same drive and determination that carried me through the toughest moments of my life.

One lesson from my military days was controlling the controllables—maintaining my equipment and body. Before the ride, I prepped my bike, fitting a 26T front chainring paired with a 51T cassette, a decision that made all the difference when facing 23,000 meters of relentless climbing. I also stayed vigilant about hydration, food, and hygiene. Letting things slide when you’re fatigued is easy, but small oversights can derail you. Keeping my bike and body working was vital—it’s all we have to move forward.

Embrace It

Many people I know have embraced bikepacking and ultra-distance cycling events, so I thought I’d see what the fuss was about. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, exploring incredible areas by bike seemed like a great way to spend time, but I was aware of my frustrations with riding and carrying a loaded bike off-road. It doesn’t handle the same—technical sections I usually relish became too risky to ride. I made peace with that and bought some cycling shoes to walk in!

The unpredictability didn’t stop with the riding. My sleeping arrangements varied from night to night. Often, I found hostels where I could scrub off the day’s grime and recharge my lights, GPS, and myself. Other nights, it was just me, the mountains, or the front of a Dia supermarket. The contrast between a warm bed and the open air made it feel more intense—luxury one night, roughing it the next. But that was part of the experience. Whether it was a hot shower or the cold bite of sleeping outside, I had to roll with it.

• 
• 

You’ve Got to Belong to It

Leading up to the event, I didn’t like the idea of too many people knowing I had entered. The potential facial expressions pulled, the sharp intakes of breath on mentioning the event name and the constant “How is training going?” would have added pressure and could have tipped my mindset into negative thinking. I feel I better understand my own mental strengths and
weaknesses these days, and I perform best when competing only with myself. So, I told a few trusted people who I knew would offer tried and tested advice, support, and understanding. I focused on taking the event one day at a time. Just get through the day. This strategy broke the event down, making it less daunting.

It’s Not for Sale by any Stretch

One element I’ve reflected on is the modern trend in cycling and outdoor sports—social media “hype.” Many broadcast their challenge before it even starts, chasing validation through likes and comments, “Big news, I’m doing X event this year,” followed by kudos and praise for an achievement that hasn’t even materialised yet. I worry about this shifting the source of motivation from where it needs to be: from within. The counterargument is that announcing plans creates accountability, but I find that justification weak. The real work of a gruelling event is done in solitude, where social media “likes” hold no value. In those dark moments, struggling through the toughest parts, the opinions of followers lack the gravity to pull you through.

• 
• 
• 

Instead, I prefer to hold such experiences close. Share them with a handful of trusted people, but keep the noise to a minimum. Motivation is best when it comes from within, not from external validation. After the event, when the hard work is done, that’s the time to share. In a world full of noise, there’s strength in quiet confidence.

Be Yourself, By Yourself

How do I feel about bikepacking now? Honestly, much the same. I’m so grateful to James for creating this experience, but I don’t think I’ve caught the bug. I still love cross-country riding, fast road rides and throwing big enduro bikes down the sides of the South Wales and Tweed valleys. That said, If another event grabs me like this one did, I’d consider entering. These experiences are hard, but so valuable.

Spread the Word Throughout the Land

L’Esperit de Girona also elevated itself above just a physical challenge—it became a way of connecting with the land and the people of Catalonia. My love for this region runs deep, and while I’ve explored it before, this event allowed me to see it through a new lens. Previously, my trips had centred around Girona and Banyoles, with long day rides that always brought me back to the same starting point. But this journey required something different. I had to stop in unfamiliar villages, rely on the kindness of strangers, and embrace the rhythms of the landscape in a way that felt profoundly intimate. One evening—more accurately, in the early hours of the morning—I experienced a moment that still chokes me up when I think about it. After covering 200 kilometres and over 5,500 metres of climbing, I headed toward the small village of Montseny, with the red lamps of the Turo de l’Home radio mast looming above me. I had managed to book a room at a hostel, but as the night wore on, it became clear I wouldn’t arrive until well after midnight. I began to worry. I was exhausted, running on fumes, and the thought of not being able to check in weighed heavily on me.

• 
• 

I called ahead, desperate, explaining my situation. When I finally rolled into the village around 1 a.m, barely a shadow of myself, the hotel owner was there, sitting on the terrace with some friends, a cigarette in hand. As soon as he spotted my bike lights, he stood up, walked over to me, and shook my hand firmly. “Welcome to my home,” he said warmly, “would you like a cup of tea?” At that moment, I nearly broke down in tears. The relief and comfort of his simple words felt like a sanctuary in the middle of what had been a tough first day. His empathy and understanding, the way he made me feel like family, brought a wave of gratitude that still brings a lump to my throat.

This encounter was not unique. Every interaction I had with the people of Catalonia was marked by warmth, generosity, and a deep sense of understanding. Whether it was allowing me to check in late, leave at dawn, or ensuring my bike was securely stored, their kindness helped me not only finish the event but also forge an unshakable bond with this place. Catalonia, I salute you. For your land, your people, and the quiet strength you offer to those who pass through your mountains—I carry that gratitude with me always. In a world where it feels like our experiences only hold value once they exist as a social media post this event gave me the chance to step away from the noise and gaze into the abyss. It wasn’t about the end result, it was about those solitary, brutal moments that forced me to reaffirm my own strength, the beautiful euphoric highs, the breathtaking views, and kind interactions with strangers that reminded me what truly matters: pushing through, immersing yourself in an experience and letting the abyss gaze back.

• 
• 

With thanks and love to the people of Catalonia, James Hayden for creating the route and event, KJ for her unwavering calmness and support, the ‘Legends of the Black Dark Hareem’ for your kindness and positivity, and Pantera for the motivational soundtrack when things got tough.

Find more of James and Isabelle Hayden’s events on L’esperit del Bikepacking and on Instagram.

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...

Please keep the conversation civil, constructive, and inclusive, or your comment will be removed.